Muintir: The True Meaning of Family
by Cassidy La Fayette
Summary: Tortured by his past, Edward drifts through life with an almost overwhelming lethargy and bitterness. But when he meets the beautiful, shy Isabella Swan, his whole world seems to change. Drawn to her, he begins to experience the joy life can bring. But as he discovers the reason for his new friend's loneliness, he also discovers how frighteningly fragile life itself can be.
1. Preface

_Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer and Clannad belongs to Key_

* * *

Always told in Edward's POV unless otherwise stated.

THIS STORY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH _A WALK TO REMEMBER._

* * *

_There's a girl who sits under the bleachers  
Just another day eating alone  
And though she smiles, there is something she's hiding  
And she can't find a way to relate  
But she just goes unnoticed, as the crowd passes by  
And she'll pretend to be busy when inside she just wants to cry  
And she'll say..._

_Take another look at the life of Miss Always Invisible  
Look a little closer, I really, really want you to  
Put yourself in her shoes  
Take another look at the face of Miss Always Invisible  
Look a little harder and maybe then you will see  
Why she waits for the day  
When you'll ask her her name_

_In the beginning, in the first weeks of class  
She did everything to try and fit in  
But the others, they couldn't seem to get past  
All the things that mismatched on the surface  
And she would close her eyes when they laughed as she fell down the stairs  
And the more that they joked and the more that they screamed  
She retreated to where she is now  
And she'll sing..._

_Take another look at the life of Miss Always Invisible  
Look a little harder I really, really want you to  
Put yourself in her shoes  
Take another look at the face of Miss Always Invisible  
Look a little closer and maybe then you will see  
Why she waits for the day  
When you'll ask her her name_

_Then one day, just the same as the last  
Just another day spent in counting the time  
Came a boy who sat under the bleachers  
Just a little bit further behind_

"Miss Invisible," Marie Digby

* * *

_**Tortured by his past and pained by an uncertain future, Edward Cullen drifts through life with an almost overwhelming lethargy and bitterness. But when he meets the mysterious, beautiful, shy Isabella Swan, his whole world seems to change.**_

_**Drawn in by her gentle but lonely spirit, he begins to experience the joy life can bring. But as he discovers the reason for his new friend's loneliness, Edward also finds out that life itself can be frighteningly fragile.**_

* * *

**Preface**

**Unknown POV**

Unknown Time

I glance above and around, surprised to find myself lying down. But where? A world of white surrounds me... Snow? It is. Falling in neverending sheets, it blankets me in white.

What am I doing here? Where is everyone? Surely I'm not alone in such a place...?

I huddle my covered limbs closer to myself and pause. I'm holding something in my buried hand. I pull it up. In mine is another hand. Smaller, smoother, and almost as white as the snow covering us. A girl's hand.

Oh. That's right. I am not alone. I never am, even in this world.

I brush the snow off her face, and her beautiful sleeping visage appears. Bronze hair frames a petite, heart-shaped face.

How could I have forgotten her? We were always together in this world.

This sad, lonely world.


	2. Monday, March 1, 2010

_Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer and Clannad belongs to Key_

* * *

Monday, March 1, 2010

I'm late.

But do I care? Of course not.

As I mozy my way through the empty streets to school, I grumble at all the rain and fog obscuring my way. It blocked everything out, leaving the whole world in some kind of grey haze.

I scoff to myself, shoving my hands in my pockets. I hate this town. I hate the snobby rich people that inhabit it. I hate the preppy, private high school that I'm currently enroute to flunking out of.

Most of all, I hate the memories that this town holds. I can't escape them.

As I pick my way through the side-streets of Forks to my school, I wonder, _If all these little by-streets were taken away, and a single straight road was made from my house to the school, how much time would I save? _The scary thing was, it could happen, too. Even a town as little and elitist as Forks was changing fast. Nothing could withstand the changes that passing time brought.

I glare at the hill staring me in the face. At the top of it stands Forks Private High School, proud and grim. Who the fuck decided it was a good idea to build a school at the top of a thirty-foot hill and make the only entrance a walking one? I'd like to find that asshat and make _him _walk this bitch everyday, twice a day.

As I continue my internal tirade and otherwise prepare myself to start the climb, I almost miss the sound of a sigh from beside me. It's small and gentle-sounding, not at all like the huffs of impatience I'm used to hearing from myself. I turn out of curiosity.

There's a girl standing there. Her uniform's badge color says she's a junior like me, but I've never seen her before. And that's a hard thing to manage what with the entire student population of Forks Private equalling a grand total of about five hundred.

Her shoulder-length brown hair flutters around the palest, tautest face I've ever seen. She's so _small_. Her limbs look as though I could reach out and snap them. She stands rooted at the bottom of the hill, like me, only she looks like she's about to cry. Her caramel-colored eyes are so expressive, showing her fear. Fear of what, though? Is she so small and timid that she's afraid to enter a school on her own? Or is it the hill?

"Ok..." she murmurs to herself as I watch. Her eyes close, and she mumbles fiercely, "I can do this!"

I wait, unnoticed by this strange new girl. Her eyes snap open again and she glares up the hill at the far-off school gate with fierce determination. It's kind of cute.

"Do you like this school?" she suddenly asks softly, and I somehow know immediately that she's not talking to me. Is she giving herself a pep talk or something? Before I can ask or whatever else I might have done, she answers herself, "I really, really do. But nothing can stay the same forever, can it? Even fun and happy things... Everything eventually changes. Still, can you like this place?"

The bizarre fact that she seems to be thinking exactly what I had been pondering not moments before doesn't escape me.

Still, I respond, "You just have to find more, right?"

She gasps and jumps, and I'm suddenly struck with the full force of her gaze, boring directly into mine. She truly had never noticed me. She'd thought she was alone until now.

"You just have to find the next fun or happy thing, right?" I continue. "I mean, there's always more; there's always something new."

What the hell was I doing, lecturing her like this, when I couldn't even get my own head sorted out? But as she stared at me in amazement, I saw the truth in my own words. There were always times when we behaved childishly, or stubbornly, and wanted to hold onto the past even if it cost us a future... It's a phase everyone goes through.

I shake my head with a sigh, and squint up the hill. "C'mon. Let's go."

We just have to keep moving forward, keep climbing that tall hill. And that's just the easy part. It's _enjoying _the climb, enjoying the life you've got while you've got it, that's the hard part.

* * *

School passes slowly.

Even though I didn't arrive until after second period and napped pretty much all through third, the day still dragged.

I was almost as excited as all the other little tools when the final bell rang. Seeing as I was involved in no clubs or activites, I could go straight home.

Of course, by "home" I meant my best friend's house.

Emmett McCarty was a senior like me, but that wasn't all we had in common. We were Forks High's "bad seeds." We frequently skipped or came in late to school, and the town was accustomed to seeing us walking around late at night.

We didn't do anything really _bad_, we just wandered around lazily and were called bad because we were the only kids who dared to defy their parents and school and do what the fuck we wanted. Both of us knew we weren't hurting anyone else by cutting all those classes and failing all those tests. That was the asinine belief of a child. No, we both knew we were only hurting our own futures. We just didn't care.

And that was why we got along so well.

So I ambled down the hill and through all the little streets on autopilot. I'd know the way to his house blindfolded and turned around. It was only natural, seeing as I spent about twice as much time there as in my own house. I don't even bother knocking on his front door anymore. His mom knows and expects me. She tries to treat me as another son, but I'm too distant to really embrace as a surrogate, even though I do like Miss Diane.

She catches me as I walk up the stairs and smiles pleasantly.

"Will you be staying for dinner?" she asks, and I nod my head after a moment's thought. She glances up the stairs. "Emmett just jumped in the shower, but you can hang out in his room until he gets out. You know where everything is."

I nod and thank her and continue on my way.

Emmett's room is fucking tiny. Especially when you see him in it. He's a pretty big dude, naturally built tough and big, but he also likes to lift weights. He used to be on the football team and, even though he's not anymore, he likes to keep up with their workout regimen. Most days, anyway.

I sigh and flop onto his bed, making myself comfortable. It's then that I spy his iPod syncing to his laptop on the desk.

I deliberate for a moment. _Should I erase all his music and put my own 'songs' on there? Or leave it as is?_

We're always pranking each other like that. It was one of the reasons I kept hanging around him, even though we were pretty different people once you got past our attitudes.

In the end, I decided not to mess with his "music" if only because I was too tired to move from his bed. He was fucking lucky, too, because I would have gladly erased all his shit. Emmett has some crappy taste in music, let me tell you.

Eventually, though, the day ends the way all the others do: with no particular objective and nothing to feel passionate about.

It's time to go "home" before I know it. My least favorite part of the day.

I open the front door and remove my shoes, bracing myself. The whole house is dark except for a light shining from the TV in the living room. I can hear it turned up all the way at the front door.

I sigh and wander my way past all the piles of papers and junk food and liquor bottles. Just as I suspected, my father is crashed out on the floor with an empty bottle in one hand and the remote in the other. He must have been out for a while to have not turned the lights on. I flick the switch myself and bend down to shake his shoulder.

"Hey, Dad," I try rousing him, "if you're going to sleep, you should move to your bed. C'mon, Dad, wake up."

With a small, shuddering groan, he raises his head with bleary, half-opened blue eyes. When those unfocused eyes find me next to him, he smiles abstractedly and says, "Oh, I'm sorry, Edward. I must have dozed off watching the tv. I'll just take myself upstairs n—"

I can't stay to hear the rest. His formal, detached "doctor's" tone makes me want to throw up. I leap to my feet and throw myself out the door. I don't care where my feet take me, so long as it's away from him.

My mother died in a car accident when I was five. I don't really remember her, and there are no pictures of her around the house for me to look at. Since her death, my father turned to drinking and gambling to distract himself. He's a doctor but he hasn't been working much. I've had to get three part-time jobs just to cover the tuition to my private school.

We were always on shaky footing relationship-wise, but just before my freshman year, we got into a bad fight. Since then, he never spoke to me the same way. It was always as though we were strangers living together by circumstance or business, never a familial relationship. He was polite—overbearingly so—and distant at best.

It would be better if he just ignored me. I mean, if he cared enough to cause me pain, there would still be hope. But now, if he sees me at all, he just smiles like he's greeting an old buddy he lost touch with, and tries to chat me up just the same. The sheer courtesy and removal I hear in his voice each time he speaks to me is enough to make want to never talk to him again, and I avoid him at all costs. I stay out really late, not coming home until I'm sure he's asleep. Meaning, I don't usually get to sleep until dawn, and therefore wake around noon. I've never once been on time to Forks Private.

Sometimes, I could truly hate him... but mostly, I just couldn't deal with the pain that came with his distance. It felt like I was a disappointment to him, and that he'd given up working for me because I just wasn't worth the effort.

So, of course, I started thinking that myself and fell into the pattern of today.


	3. Tuesday, March 2, 2010

_Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer and Clannad belongs to Key_

* * *

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

"You again?" I demand, stopping at the base of the hill.

Once again, even though I'm several hours late to school, the tiny brunette is there. Almost as if she's waiting for me.

"Why don't you go to school on time?" I ask, shaking my head at her.

She blushes. "Um... That's... How should I put it...?"

Her scarlet face and embarrassed stutters make me take pity on her.

I shake my head again, this time to comfort her. "It's ok," I say quickly, cutting her off. "I'm a stranger, after all. You don't owe me any explanations."

"Oh. Ok."

We stand in awkward silence for a moment before I speak again, unable to resist berating her a bit.

"But you know, you really should try to get to school on time. They take that shit seriously here. You could fail out if you're not careful."

"But you're late, too," she points out, literally pointing at me as if there were a question of who she was referring to.

"Well, yeah," I shrug. "But it doesn't matter for me. I'm..."

I look away, trailing off. For some reason, I can't bear to have this girl think badly of me. Besides, why would I bother trying to stop this girl from getting in trouble? If she wants to be considered a "deliquent," that's her business and none of mine. I'd just be a hypocrite if I tried to stop her.

I turn away and with a final, "Do what you want," I start to ascend the hill on my own. My thoughts are still consumed by her and my justifications. It's just that... she doesn't look like a bad kid. I just felt someone ought to lecture her. That's it.

"Um, please!" her voice echoes after me. "Wait!"

I turn and wait for her to speak. Her faces goes red again.

"Um... Is it... Is it ok if I follow you?" she asks.

I blink. "What? Why?"

_Can it even be considered 'following' if we're going to the same place?_

She blushes darker. I'm almost worried for the rest of her organs, since it seems all the blood in her fragile-looking little body is currently in her face.

"I... I really don't think I could make it up there alone," she explains, staring at the ground. "If I were behind you, I could, you know, m-motivate myself. 'He's doing fine, you can, too.'"

_Why me? _I wonder. She probably has a few friends up at the school, why can't she walk with them? Well... I narrow my eyes and look up to the school gates. It's really not that far of a walk from here.

"Do what you want," I repeat, and resume walking.

"Wait!"

"What now?" I demand, starting to get irritated. I mean, it wasn't like I wanted to be in school, but I'd made the effort to get here. I wanted some recognition for that in their files and shit.

She blushes and ignores me, instead muttering to the ground, "Cheeseburger!"

_The fuck?_

"French fries," I respond automatically.

"What are you talking about?" she asks, her tone polite but her eyes questioning my sanity.

"That's really something I should be asking you. Do you like cheeseburgers or something?"

"Not really," she shrugs as we begin to walk. It looks like the effort to put one foot above the other is almost too much for her. Her breathing starts to shallow and quicken the further we walk, and her cheeks light up with hectic spots of red. Is she really that fragile? "Though I don't _dislike_ them, either. So, I guess I do."

That's a roundabout way of looking at things.

Not sure what to say, I settle for, "Let's go. We got this." I try to make it look as though this hill is a monster for everyone, not just her. Which is pretty much true, regardless.

It seems to have been the right thing, because she smiles at me, her whole face lighting up, and she agrees somewhat breathlessly, "Yep."

* * *

I sit down in my second period class, in my usual seat: all the way at the back, closest to the windows, and furthest away from the teacher's desk.

I can hear other students muttering amongst themselves about me, wondering what the hell I'm going to do after graduation—("Assuming he _can _graduate, which I doubt!")—what with my crappy grades. They're right in assuming no college would ever take me on.

I sigh and prepare myself for another boring three and a half hours of gazing out the windows.

But I'm interrupted by one of the Hale twins. They're both in my class, and they look almost identical. Or at least, they would if they didn't have such differing personalities.

I was being faced by the younger of the two, Vera. She was timid and painfully shy, and hated talking when she could stay silent. She also cried way too fucking much in my opinion.

She stood beside my desk and held out a piece of paper for me. I glanced at it and then back to her, deciding to play with her a bit.

"A love letter, Vera? I had no idea you were so bold."

Her face goes bright red, her eyes widen comically, and she barely manages to stammer out, "N-No, that's not w-what it is!"

I lean back in my chair and pretend to consider her speculatively. "Then it's a letter of challenge. Sorry, honey, but I don't believe in fighting girls."

"No, it's r-really not!" She looks close to tears already, and I let the game die peacefully. I take the paper and glance at what's written. Unnecessarily, Vera explains, "It's the worksheet we all received in the beginning of class. You weren't here yet."

I sigh and push it away. "How boring."

"Um, Edward?" she asks, returning my attention to her. I raise an eyebrow and wait. "Um... You know, you really sh-should try to be on time more. Attendance and promptness are taken v-very seriously in this school. You could fail."

The irony of the fact that she's repeating a lecture to me that I just gave someone else isn't lost on me.

With a grin, I reply, "We'll see."

"Oh!" she giggles excitedly, a sudden 180 from her previous mood. "Then I'll read your fortune to see how you do tomorrow!"

She takes a deck of playing cards out of her uniform skirt's pocket and makes a sloppy fan out of them.

"Pick out three, please," she says. I do, just to pass the time. _Where the fuck is the teacher, anyway?_

"Now show them to me."

I do. She reads them for a moment before grimacing at me apologetically.

"It says you're going to be late again tomorrow," she informs me sadly.

I glare. "Are you _trying_ to make me mad?"

"N-No!" she protests, blushing and stammering and altogether freaking out. "It's just what the cards say! 'Tomorrow morning there will be an old lady at a stoplight. You'll stop to help her across the road. It'll make you late, but you'll receive gratitude and payment.'"

"That's awfully specific," I deadpan, gazing at the harmless playing cards. I shrug and snap myself out of it. "Well, then, I suppose I just won't stop to help any little, old ladies tomorrow."

Vera's eyes tear up a bit as she gazes at me. "B-But... I don't think that would be very kind of you."

"Do you want me to be on time, or don't you?" I demand.

"CULLEN!" is my only warning.

I duck my head on instinct and an enormous dictionary goes whirling over top it. From the doorway strides Rosalie, Vera's older twin sister. Blond, voluptuous, and certifiably insane, it's safe to say that no other girl in my entire life has pissed me off and frightened me quite as much as Rosalie Hale.

"You have got _some _nerve picking on my little sister, you asshole!" she growls, catching hold of my tie and yanking me forward so that our faces are literally inches from each other.

"Oh, my God," I groan in disbelief, "would you chill the fuck out? I was only _talking _to her! Is that a crime now?"

"Really, Rose!" Vera tries to back me up, but that fact that she's once again near tears doesn't lend much credibility to her statement.

"Oh, is that so?" Rosalie asks with a sly 'I'm watching you' kind of glance my way. She releases my tie and takes a step or two back, noticing the cards splayed out on the floor from where Vera had dropped them in shock at her entrance.

"Were you having Vera read your fortune?" she asks me.

"Yeah, but she's not too good at it," I inform her. "She says I'll be late to school tomorrow because I'll meet an old lady at a redlight and help her cross the street."

Rosalie stares at me blankly for a moment, clearly trying to decide if I'm serious or not, and then bursts into peals of loud laughter.

_Fuck you! I'm not _that_ much of an asshole!_

Instead of choosing to say that and get my ass kicked for my time, however, I just scowl at her and flop over onto my desk, a clear dismissal for the twins surrounding me.

* * *

The bell signalling the end of third period chimes just as McCarty finally shows up to school, looking far too fucking cheerful to be in a place like this.

"What the fuck are you so happy about?" I demand when he takes his usual seat beside me.

He just gives me this contented little smile and says, "This morning was fucking perfect, man. I had my coffee, listened to my favorite music on my new iPod, no one _bothered _me... It was fucking perfect."

I glower at him, resting my head on my palm. _Enjoy it while it lasts, little man. I'll show no mercy next time. Your "music" is going down the electronic shitter._

"Well!" Emmett suddenly said, slapping his hands to his desk and startling me out of my vengeful thoughts. "I'm going to go to sleep. Wake me up when this period's over, will ya?"

"Weren't you just sleeping?" I protest.

"Yep," he shrugs. "But I'm still tired. Can't be helped."

And with that flawless bit of logic, he crosses his arms over his desk, places his head in them, and falls right asleep. The teacher comes into the room and looks at him and then at me in a _Why the fuck did he even bother coming?_ look.

I shrug. _Hell if I know._

But the douche did have some pretty fucking impeccable logic. I'm tired, therefore I sleep.

We end up sleeping all through fourth period. Fifth period rolls around and I know I'm in no mood for fucking English. If I so chose, I could speak, read and write with better usage, mechanics, and grammar than even the teacher's sorry ass.

So I ditch.

I walk out of the building and towards the old school building. Since the new one had gone up and all the classrooms had relocated there, most rooms are empty or used for storage, which suited my purposes just fine. By special request, the rooms could become club rooms, but most times they're left as is.

I amble down the hall, select a good empty one, walk in, and have myself another little nap.

I wake up with sun shining right in my fucking eyes. The light was turning a little reddish as it came through the clouds, so I knew the day was nearing its end. Day didn't last long in Forks.

I leave the room and start wandering my way down the stairs, where I find two guys are gossiping about like girls, but their tones draw my attention despite my hatred of gossip. They sound... afraid?

"You saw it, right?"

"Yeah, I guess the rumor's actually true! I can't believe it!"

I walk over to them. Closer up, I recognize them as Mike Newton and Eric Yorkie. Not especially good students, but not trouble-makers, either. I hardly knew they existed, to be honest.

"What are you guys talking about?" I ask.

"Edward!" Mike cries, eager to spread his tale. "It was here just now, the ghost of that student! You know, the one everyone's talking about!"

"Ghost?" I repeat blankly. They actually buy into this shit?

Eric supplies quickly, "She approaches you out of the blue and offers you something cursed. She looks like any normal girl, but there's something about you where you can tell something's not quite right."

Giving them a parting look that expressed just how much stock I put in "ghosts," I leave them to their girly tall tales.

At the end of the hall is the old school's library. The sign on the door says "CLOSED" quite loudly, but the door itself is ajar.

I enter out of pure boredom.

Tall bookshelves and tables line the room. There's a little wind coming through the open windows, blowing around the scent of old paper and dust. The curtains float back and forth from the window, as if they're breathing. And over at the window is a person's shadow.

Curiosity gets the better of me and I round the table blocking the person from my view.

There's a girl sitting by the window, on the floor, barefoot. Her shoes, socks tucked neatly inside, are settled beside her. Her long black hair is adorned with childlike ornaments, those big pink beads that girls in grade schools use to tie back their hair in pigtails or something. Despite the color of her badge, which says she's a senior like me, her hair is also styled like that. Fucking weird.

She doesn't glance up or even seem to notice me, despite my rather obvious assessment of her. She just quietly continues reading her book at a pace utterly inhuman. I glance down and notice the other books scattered around her on the floor. There's some really advanced shit there for a high school student.

Suddenly, she stops flipping through the pages at lightning speed. It seems she's found something interesting.

As I watch, she takes a small pair of scissors out of her pocket and goes to cut out the page she'd stopped at.

Without thinking, I rush over to her, calling, "Hey! Stop that!"

She freezes and looks up at me with startled, violet-colored eyes. She looks as though I've just taken her out of a deep calm, which is unnatural considering the setting.

"That's a library book, right?" I ask her.

She looks back down to the book in question and resumes cutting out the page, barely whispering, "Yes."

She snips the corner off and extends it to me.

"The tip is delicious," she informs me, and I suddenly feel like I've just stepped onto a fucking minefield with no map. This chick was clearly insane, and I had no idea how to tread with her.

"Do you eat this?" I ask, thrusting a piece of paper she'd already cut out of a book in front of her.

"Of course not. Paper's not food."

I nod, slightly mollified. "Good answer."

She blinks at me. "Do _you _want to eat paper?"

"No."

"You're not hungry, then?" she continues.

"That has nothing to do with it," I return, trying to keep my temper in check. Who knows how she'd act if I scared her? "I'm not gonna eat paper. Anyway," I persist, "you shouldn't cut the pages out of school books."

It's unlike me, but I feel like someone should lecture her.

_Snip, snip._

She's not even listening to me. I don't usually talk to other people, but let me tell you, when I say something to anybody, I am _never _ignored.

I scoff and turn to go, muttering, "Fine. Do what you want."

She carefully places her newest stolen paper in a pile of others sitting beside her on the ground.

I glance back to the books, ignoring titles like _Astrophysics: the History and Prospects_ and other super-advanced shit she's into. I notice the stamp PROPERTY OF SEATTLE CENTRAL LIBRARY on them.

So they're not even books from our school. Wondering if she's even aware she's _in_ school, I sigh and ask, "So are you a truant as well as a library vandal?"

She's ignoring me still, thinking deeply about some shit. Then her brow clears and she takes out something like a box from her backpack and opens the lid.

"I'm hungry," she informs me, "and this is my lunch. It's really good. I made it myself. Want some?"

"You know you're not supposed to eat or drink in the library," I deadpan.

Her face falls slightly. "It's not made of clay today," she promises.

I blink. "Do you usually eat lunches made of clay?"

"Of course not. Clay isn't food." I nod. "Do _you _want to eat clay?"

Barely restraining myself from snapping at her, I manage to grind out, "No."

"You're not hungry, then?"

"We've been through this," I struggle to keep my voice calm. "Whether I'm hungry or not makes no difference. I'm not going to eat anything but real food."

She looks away. "I'm hungry."

_IT'S LIKE TALKING TO A WALL!_ She's not listening to a word I say! She's only interested in what _she_ has to say!

I stand, desperate to leave before I do something I'll regret. "Ok, well, I'm just gonna—"

"Want some?"

She looks right into my eyes as she repeats her earlier question. Her voice sounds somewhat lonely. The wind flutters her hair, enhancing her childlike image, and I feel a wave of unfamiliar guilt sweep over me.

I sigh and sit back down. "I guess a little won't hurt."

She looks relieved, and extends a fork with some meat on it. "Say 'Ahh.'"

I recoil, stammering, "A-As if I'd do something so humiliating when we've only just met!"

She looks at me blankly, and it's clear she doesn't have any idea of what embarrassing even means. Am I the only person she's ever tried to do that to? Or am I just the only one that's rejected her?

"Well... Ok... But I only have one fork," the girl informs me hesitantly, "and you can't touch it. What should we do?"

Trying to stop myself from letting her see how weirded out I am, I reach out and grab a piece of meat with my bare hand and pop it into my mouth. It's a little cold, but still pretty fucking good. She watches my expression anxiously, like her life's mission is for me to enjoy something she made.

"Is it good?" she frets.

"Yep."

She gives me a tiny smile and scoots closer, even though we were already mere inches apart. Our shoulders are fucking touching.

"Do you want some more?"

Either this girl has no boundaries, or she's seriously hitting on me. Something tells me it's the former.

The lunch bell rings then, my savior, and I stand and say, "Sorry for bothering you, and thanks for the food, but I should get going."

"Well..." She clearly wants to say something, but hesitates, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger. She settles on, "See you tomorrow," before launching back into her book. She obviously has no intention of going to lunch.

Dismissed and confused as hell, I return to my fifth period classroom. As expected, Emmett is still there, crashed out over his desk.

I kick his desk's leg, calling, "Hey, wake up."

With a grunt and a muffled, cut-off snore, he awakens.

"Is class over?" he mumbles groggily.

"Yep. It's lunchtime."

Instantly, he perks up. Lunch is his favorite time of day, after all.

"So what are we gonna do? If you've got money, we should definitely go out."

"I don't."

He sighs deeply and mutters, "Cafeteria it is, then."

We walk out of the class together, heading down the hall. The new "modern" design of the building means that the entire wall to my left is made of doors to classrooms and the entire wall to my right is windows looking down on the courtyard.

The light down this hall is almost unbearable, especially considering the lack of sun Forks gets. Emmett suddenly leaps to the ceiling.

"I'm in top form!" he gloats. "Aren't I amazing?"

"Of course."

"And I wasn't even trying hard," he continues his posturing. "If I had been, I'd have ripped my uniform. I _am_ amazing."

We get down to the cafeteria and both of us groan at the sight. Even though Forks Private let's you leave school to get lunch, there isn't anything really to go get, so most students stay here. Today, the cafe is especially crowded.

"Shit," Em curses under his breath, eyeing the full tables. Even the uncomfortable-as-fuck windowseats are almost all taken. Then he sniffs dismissively. "Well, we'll just have to make a freshman group move. There's our seats."

A group of five or so freshmen are chatting pleasantly at a table. Emmett approaches them cockily.

I am so not getting involved in this.

Instead, I get in the food line behind one other guy and exchange my meal ticket for a cheeseburger and fries. I carry my tray over to an empty windowseat in the corner of the room and watch as Emmett prepares to make an ass out of himself yet again.

"Cullen!" he yells across the cafeteria. "C'mere! The seat right there is about to be free."

I stay where I am, and instead he comes to me with his own tray of food.

"That's my seat," he informs the guy next to me. "Move it."

Instead of the wimpy freshman Emmett clearly expected to see, the dude turns around to reveal himself as the senior football quarterback—and he's even bigger than Emmett, if that's humanly possible.

"I'm still eating," the guy informs him.

"Sorry, man," Emmett quickly backpedals. "Thought you were a freshman."

"So if I were a freshman you'd have made me move when I was still eating?"

It's become a battle of wills: will Emmett lie to cover his ass, or will he own up and fight the dude?

At the moment, Emmett doesn't look sure either. I know he's been spoiling for a fight of late, but he hasn't done anything strenuous in months, and I'm sure he'll have a tough time taking this dude.

"...Yep," he finally says.

A freshman on the football team instantly pipes up, "He's made _me_ move before!"

"All right, I think I get it," says the quarterback. "Let's take a trip out back, eh?"

Looking a bit pleased with the idea, Emmett follows him. That dude's got more testosterone than half the other hormonal boys in this school combined.

I finish my lunch and quickly leave the cafeteria, wandering the halls aimlessly. I end up somewhere on the second floor, several girls are standing by the window-wall, chattering amongst themselves.

"Look at that girl!" one of them suddenly exclaims, pointing out the window to the courtyard below. "That bird-thin one under the tree. I wonder why she's eating all alone?"

"_I_ wonder what grade she's in," her friend replies. "I've never seen her before."

I look out the window for myself and see a brown-haired girl sitting on the edge of some stone steps, eating a cheeseburger by herself.

It's her.

Knowing Emmett won't be back to bother me for a while, I decide to head down there and talk to her. It only takes me a few minutes to reach her, and she's still eating when I get there.

"Yo!" I greet as cheerfully as I can. "Whatcha doin' out here by yourself?"

She continues eating, completely oblivious. That's the second time in one day that I've been ignored, and I don't enjoy it now anymore than I did the first time.

"Are you listening?" I demand.

"It's rude to talk and eat at the same time," she admonishes, pausing her lunch only long enough to get the words out.

Feeling a bit like a scolded child, I mutter, "I see," and sit down beside her.

I look around and instantly spot the window I'd been looking down from earlier. Nobody's there now. The girl finishes her burger and picks up her milk box thing that always tastes like it came from a particularly ill cow, and starts drinking.

"So um... what did you want?" she asks awkwardly.

"Just wondering why you were eating out here by yourself."

She puts down her milk box and turns to face me fully. "Do you like this school?" she asks. I've heard this line from her before, but this time it's actually meant for me to hear.

"Not particularly, no," I respond honestly.

"Really?" Her large eyes grow impossibly larger. "I love it here. Or at least I did. But nothing stays the same forever... Everything changes."

I've heard these lines before, too, but in context, they've taken on a new meaning.

"So you don't like it here anymore? 'Cause it's changed?"

"Yeah."

"But you just said 'everything changes' like you understand and don't mind..."

She sighs and glares at the ground as she speaks, as though it's responsible for what she's saying. "I've been away from school for a long time. It's weird to see how much things have changed in that time."

"How long were you away?"

"A while. Too long, apparently. This is almost a completely different place."

"But you can still have fun. I mean, you have friends here, right?"

"I don't know whether you can call them my 'friends,' but there are a few people I talk to," she answers reluctantly.

"It's ok if you aren't that close to them as long as you have someone," I reassure her. "I mean, I know it's hard to keep in touch with people when you're away, but you still know the people you were friends with, right? You can be friends with them again."

She sighs again and looks away.

Surprised, I exclaim, "They can't be _that_ mean! Even crappy friends will greet you with a smile if they haven't seen you in a while."

"That's the problem," she informs me. "They can't meet me anymore."

I blink and scoff, "Well, you picked out some real jewels for friends, huh?"

"No," she argues quickly, her eyes refocused on mine, wide and earnest, "it's my fault for being away so long. They've all graduated and moved on..."

_...what?_

I slowly ask, "Just how long was this break of yours?"

"Nine months."

Trying to ignore the connotations, I reply, "So you were held back?"

She nods a little forlornly. "I feel as out of place as Rip van Winkle. That's why I eat alone."

It's weird to think that this girl is a year older than me. She just seems so small and young. I glance at my watch and marvel at the time passed. I wonder why I feel so comfortable beside her, like I don't have to hide anything.

After a few moments of basking in peaceful silence, I slap my thighs and say, "Well! It's just like I said yesterday: change is a fact of life. There's nothing that never changes. So you've just gotta go out and find new things to enjoy. Find new friends."

She laughs at me, and the sound is so beautiful, yet so sad and exasperated, that I feel bound to commit it to memory. "You make it sound so easy! We're a little more than half-way through the school year. Everyone's got their little group of friends all picked out. It's really hard to make yourself a part of that."

I nod, and agree, "Especially with other seniors. All they care about these days are finals and graduation. Most of them are putting themselves into study comas to make sure they get outta here. You're not in any clubs, either, are you?"

She shakes her head. "No. Yesterday was my first day of school this year. It was too late to join clubs."

"I see."

"But there is one I _want_ to join," she continues.

"What is it?"

"The drama club."

That's the last thing I ever would have expected her to say. Do we even have one of those at this school?

Noticing my hesitation, she offers, "I know there was one here a year ago when I left."

I shrug. "Ok, so go to their clubroom after school today."

She stares at me, frightened at just the thought.

"That's what you want, isn't it? To join the club?" I press.

"Yeah..."

"Then you've gotta actually go talk to them."

"You're right." She clenches her little hands tightly, as though in determination, and I wonder vaguely if it was me that encouraged her so much, or if it was there all along.

The bell rings and it's time to go back to class. We say our hasty goodbyes, and I amble up the steps to class. I'm late, Emmett's even later, but Forks Private's crappy teachers once again have us beat. Ours hasn't shown up by five minutes after the bell rang.

"Dude, are you crying?" I ask, shocked, as Emmett sits down in his seat beside me.

"Of course not, prick, that douche McDuff hit me in the eye and it won't stop watering. But you should've seen what I did to him."

"A pretty even fight, then?" I ask, slightly disinterested.

"Yeah, I'd say," he answers reflectively. "Hella fun, too."

The teacher finally walks in then and calls the class to order. I stare out the window, thinking of that girl from before. I still didn't know her name, but I knew that she felt like Rip van Winkle—whoever the fuck that was. I could only imagine what that felt like; probably lonely. If all the people she knew graduated, and there were only a few left for her to 'talk to,' I'd wager those few people were teachers.

She'll go to the clubroom after school, though. Will they accept her? I momentarily feel like kicking all their asses to make sure they do, but I know it might be a lost cause. A senior trying to join a club is mostly viewed as a waste of time. They're close to graduating, anyway; why waste the time to train them?

The sound of pens and pencils scratching against paper reaches my ears. I glance around and notice everyone diligently working on something. I hadn't even been handed the assignment. I suppose it's obvious why.

_"We're a little more than half-way through the year... It's hard to make yourself a part of that..."_

Suddenly, I feel the exact same way. I frown to myself, watching the others work so hard, and wonder, _What the hell am I even doing here?_

I glare out the window, lost in thought, until the bells rings, signalling the end of fifth period. One more boring class to go.

I wake Emmett from his second nap of the day and we walk together to our next class. We're in all the same ones. As soon as we slump into our new seats, Emmett's out again. Having no one to talk to, I return to looking out the windows.

Something catches my eye out on the grounds a floor below us, and I sit up straighter in my seat to get a better look.

_Well, _that's_ something I've never seen before..._

There are two motorcycles at the top of the hill, stopped near the gates. The two riders are young men, neither wearing any protective gear whatsoever. In fact, they're wearing "artfully" beat-up leather jackets and torn-up jeans with huge, clunking metal-toed boots. Assclowns.

One of them waves his arm toward the front entrance, making a sign with his hand.

Both bikes start, and they drive wildly through the area inside the gates, making a huge racket.

Something like this happened before, at the end of last year. The troublemakers that time were from a Port Angeles private school, with a focus on math and science. Our school apparently turns out the best scores on the upper west coast, so we this year we got more federal funding than any others. Lots of other schools' kids, especially those in districts with limited means, got pissed off about that.

Emmett straightens up at the noise and leans over my desk to get a look. The entire class follows his lead, even the teacher.

I turn to look back down there, and now there's a dude from our school walking calmly out to meet the bikers. The lone figure has long, strawberry-blond hair and a slender, curvy body... Definitely a girl. But what the fuck does she think she's doing?

Emmett cheers. He loves fights, and he especially loves hot, fighting chicks. I clock the pervert upside the head.

Little good it does him.

"Do you think she'll fight them?" he asks, rubbing his head.

"No way," I scoff. "She's too small. She'll get her ass handed to her."

And where are all the teachers? Why aren't they coming out to stop this bullshit? The bikes stop right in front of the girl and they seem to talk for a few minutes.

"Get 'em, Tanya!" a girl in our room suddenly yells.

Emmett laughs at her. "Get them? That little girl?"

Down below, the girl in question smiles broadly.

It's over in the blink of an eye.

Loud cheers for the unknown female studen suddenly fill the room and the grounds below as she walks calmly back inside. Both bikers are being dragged behind her, one holding his injured manhood, the other nursing a broken nose.

Emmett's jaw drops. For a brief moment, I'm in agreement with him: there are just no words.

Eventually, he laughs somewhat forcedly. "The fuck was that?"

A brilliant opportunity to waste time appears, and I answer, "I don't know, but I'll go find out."

I leave my seat and exit the room.

A few minutes' walk down the hallway, I hear him call, "Wait! I'm coming, too!"

I pause and wait for him to catch up to me.

"That was fucking impossible," he declares as he does so.

"Well, let's go check it out for ourselves."

We go down the hall to the staff room, where the girl had dropped off the would-be bullies. Curious students gather round the door. All of them are underclassmen, I only recognize their faces vaguely.

"Well?" demands a stern-looking older teacher, Mr. Bostic. "What do you have to say for yourself this time, Miss Harding?"

"It was legitimate self-defense," the fighting girl answers promptly. She shakes the boys still in her hands. "Isn't that right?"

Seeming to be scared out of their minds, both respond with jumbled cries:

"We started it!"

"We made her!"

"It's not Tanya's fault!"

"So you know Miss Harding?" Mr. Bostic asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"No," says the girl quickly. "They just heard my name being shouted by other students and used that. Isn't that right?"

Her blue eyes glitter dangerously as she stares down at them.

"Yeah!"

"That's it!"

"I see. Well, we'll let them go for now and have them reflect on what happened," Mr. Bostic decides. He turns to the girl. "Don't do something so dangerous again. Just leave it to the teachers."

"Yeah, I'll do that. Well, then, if you'll excuse me..."

She turns to walk away, and the crowd parts, terrified and awed at the same time.

"Hey, you," I grab one of the onlookers and ask, "who is she?"

"Tanya Harding," he replies, his tone indicating that I should already know, as if she's a celebrity or some shit. At my blank look, the kid continues, "She's a sophomore. She just transferred here a few weeks ago."

I jerk my head towards the bikers. "Is she always doing this shit?"

"I guess. She's so hot, isn't she?"

Well, this jerk-off's a lost cause. I release him and stare at the back of the girl walking away, wondering how we had such a weird person in this school for weeks and I didn't know. Then again, it's not like I pay much attention when I'm here.

As the girl disappears around the corner, so do the onlookers, who divide off into their groups of friends and leave.

"There's definitely something funny going on here," Emmett declares beside me. "Shit like that just ain't possible."

I roll my eyes and start walking back to class. "Leave it be."

"Wait for me, asshole!"

* * *

The bell rings. Sixth period, and school itself, is finally over.

Emmett and I grab our things from our lockers. He turns to me and asks, "Wanna hang out?"

"I can't."

"Where ya going?"

"Nowhere, you nosy fuck," I respond, with none of the venom required to make my words hurtful. "I just don't have any extra cash to spend."

"Oh, gotcha." He sighs. "Well, I'm broke, too, so that means no after-school fun."

His idea of 'after-school fun' is to hit the new arcade in town. It's a cheap venue, full of secondhand games and machines, but it still manages to get every guy in town to come in at least twice a week.

Em shrugs, looking more hopeful. "Hey, maybe if we go to the cafeteria, there'll be someone who'll treat us."

"Are you ridiculously optimistic or just an idiot?"

Still, it's not like I have anything better to do. I follow him downstairs.

He catches a sophomore first thing through the door and says, "Treat us to some soda, would ya? You're a good kid. If someone does something to ya, you just come find us, ok?"

Ignoring this idiocy, I glance at my watch again. It's been twenty minutes since school ended. I wonder if that girl had the courage to go to the drama clubroom? I can't help but worry about her. I turn around on the spot and walk out towards the doors, ignoring Emmett's call of, "Hey, Cullen, where ya goin'?!" as I leave.

I head out to the old building and take the stairs to the third floor. I know that the rooms up here are all clubrooms, so the drama club's room is bound to be here somewhere. Sure enough, there's the girl, standing in the hallway just up ahead.

I sigh, slightly disappointed that she hasn't gone in yet.

I watch her from a distance for a while, hoping she'll work up the courage by herself. She nods to herself for a minute, and I can almost hear her giving herself that same pep talk from before. I smile. Her lips move, and can just make out what she's whispering... But then again, maybe I'm wrong... I mean, "watermelon"? Is she suddenly thinking about dinner or something?

With that, she opens the door as she calls out, "Um, excuse me!"

She pauses, her hand on the doorhandle, and doesn't continue. She just keeps staring into the room, frozen.

_Damn it!_

I rush over to her and look over her shoulder to the room beyond. It's empty of anything except boxes of drama junk and dust. In the midst of all the silly gossip I'd heard over the last few months, one tidbit suddenly returned to mind: the drama club didn't have enough members, and was forced to disband.

Feeling horrible for leading her on when I should have remembered, I put my hand on her little shoulder.

She jumps in surprise, not having noticed me at all. Then she smiles at me over her shoulder. "You came, too?"

"Yeah... Sorry, I was just checking up on you."

She glances to her shoulder pointedly. "What's with the hand?"

"Nothing."

"Is that so?"

"Yep."

We stand in silence for a few moments, not an uncomfortable one, and she doesn't remove my hand as she stares back into the room. If a stranger—or, God forbid, Emmett—saw us right now, they'd probably be thrown off by how close yet unfamiliar we were to each other.

I was about to make that would-be scene even weirder.

"I'm Edward Cullen," I finally introduce myself. She doesn't move or say anything, so I prompt, "And you are...?"

"Bella Swan."

"Nice to meet you."

She gives me another small smile. "Nice to meet you, too."

I apologize about the drama club, and for forgetting. She says it's not my fault.

It's sunset by the time we walk out of the school. I look around, expecting to see people waiting for her, before I remember she doesn't really know anyone.

"Are you going home alone?" I ask.

"Yes."

"I suppose you're looking forward to that watermelon."

She looks at me blankly for a moment before letting out a peal of laughter. "You saw that?"

I nod, then, unable to resist, ask, "What the hell were you telling yourself that for?"

She shrugs, blushes, and kicks at the ground. "It's a habit I've had since I was a little, little kid. Whenever I'm sad or shy or... or feel too weak to move, I sort of... bribe myself with a food. The thought of rewarding myself with it later is enough to make me move again, most times."

Watermelon and cheeseburgers as bribes for getting over some pretty fucking intense feelings? That's really enough for her?

We walk down the hill together in silence before pausing at its base. I realize I have no idea where she's going, so I warn teasingly as a goodbye, "Don't be late tomorrow."

She smiles at me. "I'll try."

"Well... I guess I'll see you later, then."

She nods. "Bye, Edward."

I get home just as the sun goes down. As always, I change into normal clothes and leave the house. I grab my usual dinner and head to Emmett's.

There's a huge fucking racket and general hullabaloo going on upstairs. From my vantage point at their base, I can see Emmett sprinting, stark-naked, from the bathroom to his bedroom, screaming bloody murder.

Sighing, his mother stops in front of me. "Hello, Edward," she greets, sounding far too tired for how early it was—only eight-thirty. She sighs again. "That moron... He used up all the hot water. I had to practically cut if off for him to get out of there. What the hell was he doing for that long?"

Unfortunately, despite Miss Diane being a chill mom, she was also one of those that were rather oblivious when it came to their children. In her mind, Emmett was still her prepuescent boy who followed her everywhere and thought she was the most beautiful woman on Earth.

I decided it was time to get one over on Emmett again. He was due for a good prank, since I'd gone easy on him with the iPod.

"You're way too easy on him, Miss Diane."

"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow. "And what do you suggest I do differently?"

Without any hesitation, I respond, "You should cut his shower time back to twenty minutes tops, and make him do his own laundry as punishment. He'll need to know how to do those things for college this fall anyway, right?"

She blinks at me, awed. "You're right!"

"What are you two so chummy about down there?" Emmett emerges at the top of the stairs, mercifully clothed once more.

"You're confined to twenty-minute showers from now on, Em," his mother instantly decrees. "And I'm going to teach you to do laundry. You'll be doing that on your own from now on, too."

Emmett's face goes white under his tan. "W-What?"

She walks away, merely declaring that his lessons start tomorrow, and Emmett just looks at me like I'd kicked his puppy.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks me confusedly.

I nod, raising my eyebrows in an it's-obvious kind of way. "She's pissed that you keep taking all the hot water in the shower. This is her punishment."

He groans and mutters angrily under his breath as we trudge upstairs to his room. I instantly sprawl across his bed and snatch up a magazine to read.

"If you're just gonna read, take it home and read it there," Em snaps at me, still in a bad mood from his mom.

I know that he doesn't know about my "home life," simply because I'd never told him, so I answer as teasingly as I can, "Don't say such things! I want to read here, with you."

He glares. "And why would that be?"

I pretend to think it over. "How should I say this...? I feel calm when I'm with you..."

"I always knew you had a thing for me!"

I scoff and go back to my magazine. "Whatever. Even if I _were_ gay, you would _so_ not be my type. You got anything to drink?"

"Get out."

"But the soda you bought for me is delicious!"

"What soda? You..." He continues lecturing me, but I tune him out and flip through some more pages, finally settling on some stupid story of a skank that is now a "married, reformed skank" but still a skank.

I notice Emmett has stopped talking and is now glaring at me from across the room.

"...uh, yeah?"

"You weren't even listening!" His eyes land on the mag in my hands. "You know what? Give that back, I haven't even read it yet!"

"Yes, you have," I answer, lazily flicking a page as I keep it out of his reach. I toss him an older magazine. "Here, work on this crossword puzzle. Do your best, now."

"The answers to it are in the one you're holding."

I nod. "I'll check your answers. If it's completely right, I'll go downstairs to get us something to drink."

He mentally debates with himself over the pros and cons of this deal. Finally, he grunts, "Fine. Just tell me if I'm right, ok?"

"Sure thing."

He opens the magazine and starts reading aloud. "One-across: takes without right." He scoffs. "This is so easy. 'Steals.' You ready to go get me ten sodas?"

I roll my eyes and look at the page in my magazine containing his answers. There was no way he was getting all of these. Most of them, I didn't even know.

"Three-across: fruit tossed from a ship..." He pauses for a moment before crowing, "Tea! That Boston Tea thing!"

Teacher, we have a genius in our midst.

A few hours of dejected "don't know that"s and "who the fuck would know THAT?"s later, he tosses the whole thing across the room with a snarled, "Who gives a shit, anyway?" He sighs, settling back onto the floor, leaning against his bed. "But wasn't that scene at the gates earlier interesting? What an awful show."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"A small girl taking down two dudes so fast? There's no way."

I scoff, putting down my own magazine and sitting up to look him in the eye as I say, "You were right there; you saw it yourself."

He rolls his eyes at me, as though I'm the stupid one here. "It was obviously staged. That's why they did it so far away from the building and other people: so they wouldn't get caught."

"And what purpose would that serve, exactly?"

"Popularity!" he declares fiercely. "You saw how cool she became after the fight. It's a dirty trick. Forks Private doesn't see many fights, so obviously the kids to get into one will be the talk of the two for weeks. But unlike her, there are some veterans at the school who've fought many battles, unrecognized."

I smirk and lean back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling. "You flatter me."

"I was talking about me, dumbshit! You don't know this, but in my freshman year, I was in a street fight almost every night!"

"You say that like it's something to be proud of."

He shakes his head, sighing, "Cullen, you have so much to learn. Fighting equals strength. Strength equals power. And power equals whatever the hell you want it to equal. When you got the power, you're top dog."

Ignoring this, I point out, "But how could it have been a set-up when she was all alone?"

He glares at me. "Fine! I'll prove it to you! I'll call her out tomorrow. She won't be able to do a damn thing against me."

"You really are a moron."

About two hours later, at three in the moring, he starts yawning pointedly.

"It's getting late, isn't it?" he prompts.

Having no intention of sleeping over at his house, I get up and leave the room with a sleepily murmured farewell.


	4. Unknown 1

_Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer and Clannad belongs to Key_

* * *

**Unknown POV**

Unknown Time

I watch it closely, this distant world.

It's such a sad place. It would seem I'm inside a house, a place where there should be love and laughter. But it's quiet. I can see a table and a wall of windows before me. There should be a family here, or even just one person, but there is no one.

Nothing moves.

If I were given a choice of where to be reborn, where to start a new life... I don't think I'd choose this world. I've become frightened of it. This world has already met its end. Nothing is ever born here, neither does anything die. Not even the changes of passing time exist.

Somehow I know that the next person to join this world will be the last. Locked into a world that will never change, a place that no one can escape from...? I don't want that to be me.

And yet, I stay here, watching this frozen world.

I know if I just close my eyes, I can leave this place. I can wish for a warmer, more beautiful world to be reborn into. But I won't move.

For in this world, such as it is, _something _is alive. I don't really know what it is, only that it's dreadfully alone.

The light streaming through the windows strikes the walls, casting shadows over parts of the room. It's in those shadows that the lonely being sits.

If I could just move my eyes slightly, or turn my head, I'd be able to see what it is. But for some reason, I'm frozen, too.

The light outside changes, becoming narrower and changing colors as the sun sets. In this new lighting, I can see the figure sitting in the corner.

She seems so innocent, like a child, and yet she's a young woman herself. She stares at me intently out of large, caramel-colored eyes.

But I can't be seen... I haven't been born into this world...

She reaches out to me, stretching as far as she can, but doesn't touch me. Her fingers pass right through what should have been my chest.

So I still haven't been born into this world. I thought so. That's why I can't move or touch anything.

But if that's the case... How can she see me? What do I look like to her?

She waves her hand at me, palm forward. Left, right, left, right. Then she disappears.

What is she doing in this world? How does she live? What does she eat?

She _is_ still alive, right?

Vaguely, I wonder why I'm so worried about her. A strange thought occurs to me: _It's the same as then... I couldn't help but worry about _her_, too..._ I don't know what I mean by that, but I seem to remember something unbearably painful happening to me. I shy away, burying the foggy memory.

I can't be born into this world. I couldn't stand hurting like that again.

But I can't leave the girl, either.

And so I'm frozen.

Time goes on. I never move, but the girl appears from time to time.

We can't speak to each other, we have no way of understanding one another. I don't know what she is, she doesn't know what I am. I have no idea of her intentions.

She lives completely alone. Even out the windows, I can see that nothing moves but her. Nothing is _alive _but her.

Her loneliness must be the reason she can stand to just sit and watch me for so long, as she often does. She never gets tired of it.

One day, she appears before me carrying many things in her arms. The objects were of various sizes and shapes, but all of it looked broken and useless. Junk.

She sits on the floor in front of me and spends much time there, constructing something out of the junk.

I don't know how much time has passed, but the girl has done something.

She stands and faces me proudly, and beside her stands a doll constructed of the junk at her knee's height.

I realize from her hopeful expression that the doll is meant for me. It's to be my body, should I wish to join her in her world, since nothing can be physically born there.

I don't know what to do. Her world frightens me more every time I think about it. Nothing lives and nothing dies. It will never progress. It will never change. It's frozen.

Can I really live in such a place?

The girl puts out her hand, reaching for me.

I stare at the cuts and bruises on it. She'd worked so hard to build that body for me.

Her earnest, hopeful caramel eyes stare at me over that hand, the only warm things in this frozen world.

Before I even know what I'm doing, I wish for that warmth.


	5. Wednesday, March 3, 2010

_Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer and Clannad belongs to Key_

* * *

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Sunlight filters down through the trees and onto the students as we walk up the hill to school.

Yes, _we_. For once, I had woken and gotten ready in time for school. I nod to myself as I walk down the road with other kids chattering around me. It's actually not too bad, coming to school on time.

It's not like I believed Vera's fortune or anything, I had just wanted to see if I could do it. Just once. I recite the rest of her fortune as I walk, enjoying the beginnings of spring weather.

An old lady at a crosswalk, huh? I glance up the road ahead, to the only official crosswalk in Forks, and sure enough, there's an old lady standing off to one side.

_Fuck my life_.

I tilt my head, watching her as I approach. Is she praying?

_"You should always help people in trouble..."_

But she really looks like she doesn't want to talk to anyone. If I give in and talk to her, will the rest of Vera's fortune come true?

I sigh, knowing it's a lost cause. I'm too curious for my own good. Besides, who could say no to such desperate eyes?

"Ma'am, are you—?"

She suddenly screams, whirling around to face me. I leap back, startled by the sudden noise, and try again once she goes quiet.

"Are you gonna cross the—?"

She screams again, but this time it's more of a warning sound. She slides one foot back, adopting a kung-fu kind of stance, and it's pretty fucking intimidating that this old biddy even knows it.

I try one last time. "Ma'am, do you—?"

She screams again. I wait for the sound to die out, and turn to cross the street, turning my back on her.

I hear her muttering to herself as I wait for the two cars coming to pass.

"Kids these days... no respect... Picking on the elderly..."

I roll my eyes and cross the road by myself, leaving her there to deal with her own damn self. I scoff. I'll receive lots of gratitude and payment, huh?

I feel like an idiot for doubting, even for an instant, that her fortune-telling was anything but a sham.

My thoughts are interrupted suddenly by a frightened shriek of "Edward!"

I turn on reflex to see Rosalie Hale herself, blond hair whipping behind her as if in a vortex, speeding uncontrollably towards me on a moped.

"GET OUT OF THE WAAAY!" she shrieks, and the fear and desperation in her voice makes me take this seriously. I dive just in time, landing sprawled in the middle of the thankfully empty and un-busy street, while Rosalie crashes into a stop sign. Her bike flops to one side, and she barely manages to hop off before she's taken down with it.

"_Ow_!" she hisses, clutching her arm as she steadies herself. Then she turns her glare on me. "Be careful, will ya?"

I lurch to a sitting position, damn near yelling in my fury, "Are you kidding me? You almost killed me with that thing!"

She sighs and looks away for a long moment, then lets out an embarrassed laugh and admits, "To tell you the truth, I'm not used to driving it. I only got my license last week." She goes over to her fallen bike and hauls it upright. "Good," she announces, inspecting it carefully, "not even a scratch. Looks like I won't have to charge you for repairs. You should be grateful."

I stand and snarl, "Look, if either of us should be grateful, it's _you_ that I don't have you arrested."

But she doesn't listen. Almost before I even started talking, she was back on her moped and driving off, her own brand of insane laughter trailing behind her.

"Rosalie Hale, huh?" Emmett asks rhetorically, coming to a stop next to me. "Shame all the hot girls are so crazy."

"Pretty unusual for _you_ to be on time," I state questioningly.

"I like to pay people back as soon as possible," he retorts. "And before you get all confused, I am referring to the _other_ crazy girl."

* * *

I sit down in the first stopping point of the day and look around curiously, almost feeling like a new student. It's been three years since I've attended a homeroom.

But even though I'm here, I won't be paying attention. After a few minutes of boring lectures about proper attire, conduct, and cafeteria etiquette, the first bell rings and homeroom is mercifully over. The class piles out of the room, heaving a collective sigh of relief. Now I remember why I gave these bitches up. They were nothing but a chance for teachers to trap us and make us listen to stupid announcements.

I lounge around in my first period class. The teacher is called out of the room to talk with another teacher about who knows what, so I take the opportunity to doze off.

"Um... hey..."

"...hmm?" With a sigh, I return from my far-too-short mental wanderings. Standing before me is Vera, blushing once more to the very roots of her hair.

"Y-You're... You're not late today," she states the obvious.

"Yeah, but your fortune was still way the fuck off."

"Really?" Her eyes widen in relief. "Oh, good."

"Good?" I repeat, surprised. "Aren't you disappointed?"

"N-No... Fortune-telling being a little incorrect is a good thing, I think... Just like coming to school on time is a good thing, even if you don't pay attention to lessons."

Where did the courage to sat that come from? She gives a nervous chuckle, and it's clear she's really forcing herself to break away from her shell.

She takes out her deck of playing cards again and starts shuffling. Apparently, I'm going to get another fortune.

Within moments, the cards fall from her clumsy hands and clatter around the floor. But today, instead of picking them up, she reads them where they fell.

"Something good will happen to you tomorrow."

First it was unbearably specific and now it's ridiculously vague. There's no in-between with this girl, is there?

She continues, "You'll have a lovely encounter."

"And you get that just by reading some playing cards that fell on the floor?"

"Um... yes...?"

"Oh, really? I didn't need to pick them out?"

She shakes her head, looking a little braver around me now. "There's fortune-telling like this, too, I think."

"You _think_?" I repeat flatly. "On top of that, didn't you gasp in surprise when you dropped them?"

She laughs embarrassedly, but soldiers on, "That was a... um... a secret spell."

I shake my head, smiling, and ask, "So what's so good about tomorrow?"

She looks back down to the cards and tries, "Well, it makes a fiery impact on you."

I blink. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You'll be able to refresh your body and spirit, and spend your whole day safely without being injured."

I nod slowly and say, "Yeeeah, that didn't really clear things up for me."

She laughs awkwardly. "Well, it _is _fortune-telling, after all. It's not supposed to be clear."

I sigh and push her a little further. "All right, then what did you mean by 'a lovely encounter'?"

"Ah, well... That card there..." She points to the Queen of Spades. "You'll meet a sweet girl."

"...sweet...?" I repeat dully.

"As in, very kind."

"Uh...huuuh."

A bit flustered by my less-than-enthusiastic response, she seeks to clarify.

"Ah, well, Spade means sword or a knight. So in other words, a protector. I'd like to think that means she's very sweet."

Sword, huh? No matter how I spin that, it sounds aggressive. Maybe it's Rosalie Hale I'm "encountering" tomorrow. It'd be just my luck to have to deal with that train wreck two days in a row.

"And how accurate is today's fortune?"

She smiles and blushes. "Well, it _is _fortune-telling, after all," she repeats.

_A likely story..._

"About your sister," I change the subject, "your parents really oughta consider keeping her on a leash."

"Did she do something to you?" Vera asks, looking worried.

"Yes, as a matter of fact! She and that bi—"

"CULLEN!" is my only warning before a hand wraps like a vice around my wrist and Rosalie's infuriated face appears before mine. I don't even know how she got across the room so fast, or how she overheard what we were discussing. "Come with me. Now."

She yanks me out of the room, but behind us I can hear all the whispering begin.

"Bi?"

"Did someone say bi?"

"Where are they going?"

Out in the hall, Rosalie shoves me up the against the wall with a forearm to the throat.

"All right, big mouth, what were you thinking?" she snaps. "Are you trying to get me expelled? You know no it's against school policy to come here on a bike!"

That's right. It was a dumb rule enacted after a student seriously injured himself speeding down the hill on his way home.

"Fine, fine!" She releases me, and we walk back into the class with as much dignity as we can. Everyone is staring, of course.

I take my seat with a sigh, but as if I had any reason to doubt, there's Vera asking, "Edward? What were you talking about with my sister?"

I pause. So I can't mention her moped without getting her in serious trouble. Though she'd deserve it in my opinion, I'm not the tattle-tale sort. Still, there are other ways of getting revenge.

I slam my palms down on my desk and leap to my feet with the shout, "Listen up, everyone! I just found out Rosalie Hale is bi!"

The whispers turn to full-blown shrieks.

"Bi?"

"Rosalie is bi?"

"I don't believe it!"

"Well, now that ya mention it, she _is_ a little masculine..."

I glance to Vera, half-expecting her to burst into tears, but never expecting her to still be in front of me, blinking curiously.

"What's bi?" she asks. Oh my God. I'm so not dealing with this.

I'm almost grateful when Rosalie returns to my desk, grabbing my tie and growling, "I'm gonna _kill_ you!"

"Is what he said true, Rose?" Vera asks innocently. "Are you bi?"

"NO!" Rosalie shrieks. "Come _on_! It's a _bike_! A motorized scooter! You know, like a Vespa!"

The teacher finally returns and calls the class to order then, and I yawn. It's been so long since I've attended first period classes. I'm not used to being awake so early.

I ignore the lesson, and instead mentally debate over what to do for second period. Should I just sleep through it, or ditch it altogether? But where would I go...? I lose track of time as I mentally debate the likeliest nap-places in school.

"I never did get a chance to ask: what the hell are you_ doing_ here?"

A familiar voice breaks through my concentrated daze, and I snap into the present again. Apparently, I missed the sound of the bell ringing. All the other students are piling out of the room.

Of course my current pesterer Rosalie Hale, the one person I least want to see in this moment. Especially after this morning.

"I mean, it just isn't normal," she continues, smirking at me as she takes the seat right in front of me. "Cullen here and awake before noon? Impossible!"

No, what's not normal is her sitting so near me.

"What do you want?" I demand bluntly. "Or was your almost killing me this morning and the new rumors about you not enough interaction for you?"

In lieu of answer, she shows me an object wrapped in a flower-patterned napkin. It seems to be another boxed lunch.

"Is that for me?" I ask skeptically.

She gives me a look that clearly questions my sanity. "Why on earth would I give you a lunch?"

True. I'm suddenly relieved it's not for me. I'm sure she'd have somehow poisoned it if it were.

"Rose!" Vera walks over, looking surprised, too. "Why are you still here?"

Rosalie gives her sister one of those dazzling smiles that might could make a person forget she's criminally insane. Good thing she only uses 'em on Vera. She extends the lunch box to her, "Here, ya dummy."

Vera blushes and takes it.

"You forgot it on the table this morning."

"Thanks for bringing it."

"Wait—Why—? How do you even have that?" I demand. We all start walking into the hall, pausing just outside the door. At this rate, we'll all be late to second period, but I don't care. Neither of them seem to notice.

"Hmm?" Rosalie, unsurprisingly, looks as though she's only just remembered I exist.

"Don't you two go to school together?" Though I don't recall seeing Vera anywhere near our moped mishap earlier...

Vera gives a tiny laugh and explains, "Rose woke up a little late again today..."

I raise my eyebrow at her. "So why didn't you wake her up?"

She blushes again and stares at the floor. "Well... she woke up at the last minute..."

Rosalie laughs, a little embarrassedly, and saves her sister. "The ability to wake up early and be in a good mood is one I don't have, unfortunately."

So she's even more of a bitch in the morning? Holy shit, I can't even imagine such a thing.

"So how do you two get here, then, if not together?"

Vera answers promptly, as if I'm teacher and she the diligent student, "I take the bus."

"I hate the bus," Rosalie grumbles.

"And that's why you're late," I point out.

She laughs at me. "Not at all! I'm always on time."

I stare at her for a few moments, unable to bring the two revelations together. Always wakes up late... Always on time to school. Probably by running over other students on that damn moped. But she said she'd only had it a week...

"Are you faking your attendance?" I demand.

She doesn't even blink. "You mean like you did freshman year?"

_How do you know about...?!_

Deciding not to show my uneasiness, I grin and return, "Yep. And I was never caught."

"That would be because I corrected it behind you," she grins evilly back.

"...What?"

"Yep. I set it straight for ya. No need to thank me."

"So it was _your _fault for my bad attendance record that year, despite everything!"

She laughs again, shaking her head. "Cullen, how can you blame _me _for _your _not coming to school?"

"Your bullshit made Emmett have to take summer school classes that year to stay in this grade."

She levels with a single look. "With his record, even if I'd've altered it the same number of times but in his favor, he _still _would've had to take those classes to stay in this grade."

How does she even have the power to play with the attendance sheets?

"Anyway," she interrupts my thoughts, "what about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"Why—are—you—here?" She breaks down each word slowly, like I'm a moron who needs help understanding. "It's before noon. Why are you here so early?"

I shrug. "I decided not to come late."

She stares at me in silence for a long time before commanding flatly, "The truth this time, please."

"Is it really that hard to believe that I can, in fact, make myself do something I don't want to do?"

"The chances that I'll believe in UFOs are higher."

I glare.

"Or!" she continues, her eyes widening as though with a sudden idea. "Could it be that you've been here since school ended yesterday?"

Vera's eyes widen. "Is that true, Edward?"

"As if I'd do something like that!"

Rosalie shrugs. "If that's the case, you must be an imposter. That's the only logical conclusion left."

Vera, not having her sister's warped sense of humor—or any sense of humor, really—gasps and says, "Wh-What? You're not Edward?"

I can't deal with this. I turn my head to look out the wall of windows, toward the sky. For once, it's a rather clear day.

"What's with the dopey expression?" Rosalie asks.

"Nothing."

She gazes at me for a minute, and her own expression descends into one of sadness.

"Don't give me pity looks! There's nothing wrong with me."

Shr shrugs again and morphs her expression into that unsettling, evil look she has when she's plotting something particularly sinister.

"And don't look at me like that either. It's fuckin' creepy."

Her expression goes back to its normal exasperated bitch-face and she asks, "How should I look at you, then?"

"You shouldn't at all. Normally you ignore my very existence. Why pick today to start changing the staus quo?"

She pouts out her bottom lip dramatically and sarcastically fawns, "Aww! Is the widdle baby's feelings hurted by de big, bad Rosawee not talking to him?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, that's definitely it. Just as surely as you look hot as hell making that face."

She straightens up instantly, glaring at me.

We fall into silence for a few moments. It's clear that I won't speak anymore. In fact, I'm just waiting for them to leave—I don't want be the one to walk away first, Rosalie would surely use that against me.

Rosalie seems to be out of things to say too. But, breaking out of character, Vera supplies, "Um... I read Edward's fortune again today."

"And what came up?" Rosalie asks interestedly.

Vera stares at the ground, confused. "Um... uh... Well..."

I feel my face change without my permission as I ask, "Rosalie, is your sister always this scatter-brained?"

_POW!_

She punches me right in the stomach and demands with raised eyebrows, "Did you say something?"

Most guys would start shrieking denials at this point, but I refuse to be cowed by her.

Even though I'm wheezing from lack of air, I manage to choke out, "You heard me!"

"Oh! I remember now!" Triumphant and oblivious, Vera raises her eyes from the ground and gives the two of us a dazzling smile. She has no idea that she probably just saved my life. "He'll meet a sweet girl with a fiery impact. Then he'll be able to refresh his body and spirit."

Put that way, it sounds like the plot from a bad porno...

Rosalie just looks at me speculatively.

"What?" I demand.

"Nothing!"

She taps my shoulder a few times, as though offering her condolences for something, before walking off, murmuring to herself.

"...the fuck was that?"

Vera looks just as bothered by is as I am, but then she glances up and see the time. Her face drains of all color.

"I'm so late!" she wails, sprinting off to class.

I end up being around fifteen minutes late for second period. The teacher doesn't interrupt the lesson to say anything to me as I enter the room. This isn't unusual. Sometimes in the past few years, I've made it to school in time for the end of second period.

His voice is like background music for my thoughts.

That girl from yesterday... Bella Swan. The cardboard boxes piled up haphazardly. Her heartbroken expression.

_"Don't be late tomorrow."_

_"I'll try."_

I wonder if she made it? I rest my chin on my hand and stare out the window.

Second period ends.

At the exact moment the bell rings, Emmett stands up and announces. "Well, it's time."

"For?"

"I told you this morning: I'm gonna fight that girl, Tanya. C'mon, we're going now."

"You were serious about that?"

"Duh." He rolls his eyes. "I never say anything I don't mean. Much. Now, c'mon, let's go."

Having nothing better to do, and an innocent girl to apparently watch out for, I follow him out of the classroom and down the hall. As we walk, he asks, "What's her last name, again?"

I hesitate, unsure. "I think that kid said Hamstring... Or wait... maybe it was Hardee... No! It was definitely Harding. Tanya Harding."

He scoffs. "What a stupid name."

"This from the kid with a name his parents made up."

"My parents did not make up my name; how many times do I have to tell you? Besides, my name has nothing to do with this."

He runs over to a group of sophomores gathered around a water fountain. It's clear they just came in from gym class.

He returns a few moments later, announcing, "She's in class 212 right now."

We go upstairs to the second floor and stop outside her room.

Emmett smirks in anticipation. "Let's go."

I step back and shake my head. "You're on your own this time. I'm just a spectator to make sure shit doesn't get out of hand. This is bullshit and you know it. Fighting a girl..."

He scoffs. "Fine, I'll go alone."

It's clear he didn't listen to a word I said after I told him he'd be alone.

He opens the door with a flourish and enters the room with extreme overkill. He catches a couple guys chatting near the door and asks them something. Then he comes back.

"She's not in there. She might be off somewhere paying her minions their performance fee. This could me by chance to snag her and I'm missing it!"

"Could you move?" asks a bored female voice behind him.

A girl with a long braid of strawberry blond hair over one shoulder pushes Emmett out of her way and goes into room 212. Of course it's her.

But Emmett didn't see. He just knew someone shoved him.

"That asshole that just pushed me!" he calls into the classroom as he straightens himself out. "Get out here!"

The classroom goes quiet. I can't see anything from my poor vantage spot beside the door, but I can hear a chair sliding across the floor. Then the red-blond girl appears at the door, shutting it gently behind her.

"You really need to shut up," she informs Emmett carelessly. "They're trying to take a test in there."

She's tall for a girl, probably somewhere around 5'9" or 5'10", and she has this air about her, like she's confident she can handle anything because she's already seen it. It also makes her look like the world holds nothing of interest for her anymore.

"Well?" she demands. "What do you want? Are you angry because I pushed you? Well, you were blocking the door and you were bothering my classmates."

"Who gives a shit?" Emmett returns intelligently. "It was still rude."

She smiles at him. She's actually kind of pretty when she smiles. Definitely not my type, she was too cocky, but she was still pretty.

"I understand," she allows. "I'll be more patient next time."

She goes back inside the room, probably eager to finish her test.

"Hey, wait!" Emmett catches her shoulder.

"What now?"

"You seem to have a problem finishing your sentences," he points out. "I heard no apology in that."

"That would be because I wasn't apologizing."

I put my forehead to my palm and mutter, "You're behaving like a fucking moron, Emmett. You've had your fun. Now let's just go."

Ignoring me, Emmett commands, "Come back out here and shut the door behind you."

The girl raises her eyebrows at his imperious tone, and glances around the room. There are lots of people watching us, indignation written all over their faces. Seeming satisfied with what she sees, Tanya agrees, "Fine."

She takes two steps forward and once more shuts the door behind her.

"You were with two guys yesterday," Emmett starts, cutting right to the chase.

"Yes."

"I have to admire your intelligence about that. You found an easy way to make yourself popular in mere weeks. That's skill."

"Make myself popular?"

"It was a performance, right? Completely fake. No girl can kick two guys' asses like that at once. You paid them to lose to you, didn't you?"

She just stares at him.

I want to leap out of the window to escape this embarrassment, and I'm not even involved.

But, to my shock and disgust, Emmett continues, "Or maybe you didn't pay them at all. Maybe you just gave them _that _instead. Maybe you're the type of girl who doesn't care about that shit."

She doesn't say anything. She just continues to stare into his eyes blandly.

Smirking, Emmett finishes, "What? Are you speechless because I'm dead-on?"

"No. I was just giving you the chance to say your piece. But you should be happy."

The fact that she's completely at ease has Emmett nervous. Fuck, it's got _me _nervous and I haven't even been acknowledged yet.

Emmett's smirk loses some of its bravado. "And why is that?"

"When I transferred here, I promised myself that I wouldn't fight any kids from this school. You just made me break that promise."

Emmett gulps. More than anything, it's her matter-of-fact, emotionless tone that's the scariest thing here.

"But there are many reasons why my kicking your ass won't matter. You're a delinquent first of all. Nobody will blame me for fighting you."

"Got that right," I agree. "Not to mention the fact that he started it."

"Whose side are you on?!"

"Hers. This idea of yours was asinine, and I hope this teaches you a lesson."

He glares at me but returns his gaze to the girl.

"Come at me anytime."

She shakes her head. "This is going down as legitimate self-defense. You attack first."

I recognize a pattern here...

Emmett laughs. "I hope you don't regret that!"

"I won't."

He charges towards her, and I can't believe it, but he's really going to try to fight her. I see her take a step back, adopting a defensive stance without even trying, her eyes glittering fiercely.

At that exact moment, I remember.

There was once an incredibly strong girl that lived in Port Angeles. She wandered around at night, hunting down delinquent kids that terrorized old people, vandalized, or otherwise made nuisances out of themsleves. The girl was absolutely terrifying in strength and skill, but absolutely beautiful in looks.

Emmett is knocked to the floor with a single right hook to the face.

"...that was the rumor, anyway," I finish.

"You couldn't have told me that a little sooner?!"

He gets up, uniform now dirty, his face flushed in anger and humiliation, his left check swelling and discoloring already. Tanya Harding has already gone back to class.

"Even if I had, would it have stopped you?" I point out.

"Well, maybe not... but still! You're no friend at all!"

I blink. "You thought we were friends?"

He stares. "You _didn't_?"

I sigh melodramatically. "You're not cool at all. You're too big to fit through most car doors so I have to walk everywhere when I'm with you. You're a bully and you just got taken down by a girl in one shot. I'm constantly embarrassed by your need to visit the arcade at least twice a week. But still... you don't belong here, either, and you're the only person I can really talk to, so you don't need to worry about that one. I'll always think of you as a friend."

He nods, mollified, and then spits a curse towards Tanya's closed classroom door.

"Honestly," I ask, "how did you not hear about that rumor? It was everywhere for months!"

"Oh, I heard it. I just thought it was a rumor, you know?"

I clap my hands together. "So what'll it be? Does this conclude that girls can be as strong as guys?"

"Of course not! I just underestimated her, is all."

I sigh again and resist the urge to bash my head against the wall. "So what are you going to do?"

"_We're_ going to call her out again after school. Until then, I'm gonna work on getting faster."

He walks off.

* * *

I don't plan on going to college, so classes mean nothing to me. I've forgotten what period I'm even in right now. I just know that I'm tired as fuck and don't want to be here, but there's nothing to do out of this room anyway, so I hunker down over my desk and have myself a nap.

When I wake up, it's lunchtime.

The cafeteria, as usual, is at capacity or over it.

I blink, surprised. _First time I've seen _you _in here._

At the far entrance of the cafeteria, I see a rather familiar girl standing by herself, patiently waiting for the crowd around her to break up so she can reach the counter to get her lunch.

I scoff. No wonder she ends up with crappy cheeseburgers every day. If she waits, she doesn't get the good stuff.

I approach her, and she doesn't notice me, even though I'm standing right in front of her.

"Hey."

She jumps back, startled, then recognizes me and smiles faintly. "Edward," she greets. "You came here, too?"

"Yep."

"Are you going to get a burger, too?"

"Yep." _Even though I particularly despise school cheeseburgers._

"That's good."

I stare at her. Why is she forcing herself to be so cheerful? It's clear as crystal that she really isn't happy right now.

Then again, it's probably for the same reason I try to cut back on the cursing when I'm around her. For some reason, I want to make sure she knows that I'm not as bad as they all say. I have a good side.

She stares anxiously at the crowd.

"I hope I'll have time to eat..."

"Did you try your best?" I ask. It's a trick question, as I already know that, for her, she probably did. But for normal people, it was hardly worth calling a half-assed attempt.

"Yeah. I was the first person out of my classroom! But the lesson _did_ end late, so it was like this when I got here."

"Yeah, unless your class is over right on time, the good stuff's probably impossible for a girl to get."

She just nods in vague agreement, looking worried. I decide that I hate that expression almost as much as her disappointed one. They both make me feel like I've done something wrong, even when I haven't done anything.

I sigh and look back at the crowd. "Wait here."

"What? No!"

I ignore her and force my way through the people gathered around the display case of food. But I'm really late, so there's only a few things left: about a dozen cheeseburgers, one grilled cheese sandwich, a few salads, and one pack of those chicken nugget things that are actually pretty good. I grab that box for her, along with a juice box, and pay for both at the counter.

I have to hold my side a bit as I leave the crowd. The fuckers in there were violent.

Bella notices. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Good." Her concern morphs into annoyance. She glares at me. "You didn't have to do that for me! I was just fine with going up there once things had settled down."

"I just got elbowed in the side quite viciously for you and this is the thanks I get?" I try to tease, but I'm a little too out of breath to pull it off.

She gives a tiny sigh, and then puts her hand over the one I'm holding to my side.

"Thank you," she says earnestly. "You really didn't have to do that for me, but I appreciate it."

She takes her hand away, and I kind of miss it. Shaking off the feeling, I try to return with lightness. "You might not be so thankful once you see what I had to get you. It was all almost gone by the time I got up there. The best they had were these things," I give her the box of chicken nuggets.

"I love these. How much were they?"

"Nothing."

She glares at me again. I raise my hands to metaphorically stop all arguments. Of course it doesn't work.

"I'm not taking your money," I state flatly.

She doesn't look happy about this at all, but she finally relents. And it's then that I realize I forgot to buy myself something.

"Mother_fu_—!" I cut myself off before I scare Bella.

"What?" she demands, startled anyway.

"I forgot to buy myself something..." I mutter, embarrassed.

She gasps, looking far too horrified for a pretty simple situation.

"Then take these!"

I shake my head, jerking my hands away from her so she couldn't simply drop them on me. "I'll just wait for the crowd to break up a little more. I don't have enough energy to brave that shit a second time."

"But only cheeseburgers will be left by then. You don't like those."

I never told her that...

"I saw your face," she explains at my confused look. She hesitates, glancing up to the counter. A couple behind it wave to her in a friendly way. She turns back to me. "What do you like to eat here?"

"What? But there's only cheese—"

"That's irrelevant. What do you like to eat here?"

Completely thrown off by the sudden emergence of Tigress Bella Swan, I answer promptly, "I usually get a few slices of their sausage pizza if it's still there. Which it's not right now."

She doesn't respond other than a quick, "Wait here."

Then she walks off, daintily side-stepping the vastly-diminished crowd, and goes straight to the cashier, who is also one of the guys who waved to her before.

They smile and chat for a moment before the guy walks off to get something from the back. He returns moments later with a paper plate with a few slices of pizza on it. She pays for the food and walks back to me.

She hands me the plate. It's got motherfucking sausage pizza on it.

I stare from it to her until she giggles, looking sheepish.

"I told you that you didn't have to get me food," she explains. "They know me back there, and they usually try to save me some food so I can avoid the rush."

Now I feel like an even bigger idiot. I look away, shaking my head at myself, and I can feel my face heating up.

She laughs again, and moves so that she's within my sight. "It was sweet," she promises me reassuringly. "I really, _really _appreciated it. No one's ever tried to do something like that for me before."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go out to the courtyard to eat. It's too loud in here."

We exit the canteen and walk down some stone steps to the main area of the courtyard. A few other students seem to have gotten the same idea as us, but it's nowhere near as noisy as back there.

"You know, I'm not a good person for you to be friends with," I say conversationally as we sit. "I'm quite famous around here as a bad seed. I'm never on time to school. I'm barely gonna graduate. I stay out really late, too."

"Really?" she asks, her tone polite but hardly interested.

"Mm-hmm. Last night, I didn't get home till four in the morning," I answer informatively.

I don't know why I'm trying so hard to get her to leave me alone, but I'm glad it doesn't work.

Instead, just as conversationally, she states, "You must be tired, then."

I nod, yawning.

She hesitates and asks, "Do you smoke?"

"No."

She smiles happily. "Good answer. I can't stand cigarette smoke. My dad smokes a lot."

"Does he?"

She nods. "The smell is all over him, all the time. It's really bad."

Then she laughs, and I realize that it's the first geniune, un-sad laugh I've ever heard from her. I wonder if she laughs like that at home. From the fondness in her eyes as she talks about her father, I can tell she and her family are very close. I'm relieved to know that for some reason.

"What are you going to do now?" I ask suddenly.

"About what?"

"Well, about the drama club... how it ended up..."

"You mean how it was disbanded?" she clarifies.

"Yeah."

She shrugs. "What is there _to_ do?"

I nod, regretting the heavy conversation topic. "It was just bad luck. I'm sorry."

"Bad luck..." she repeats in a murmur, staring at the ground. I get the distinct feeling she's not thinking of the drama club anymore. "That's right... It's no one's fault. It never is."

I have no idea what she's talking about, so we fall into silence, eating our lunches in peace.

"Chicken nuggets!" she mutters suddenly.

"You liked 'em that much?" I smirk teasingly, knowing that she was trying to bribe herself to get over whatever she was feeling.

"Hmm? Oh... um, well, yes. It's been such a long time since I had them. I forgot how good they were."

I feel good and bad at the same time. On the one hand, I gave her something she liked enough to now use to bribe herself forward. On the other, I was also the reason she needed that bribery now—to face whatever reality I'd just reminded her of.

She suddenly leans to the side a little, very close to me but behind my back. She's not flirting. She's hiding.

"Someone's watching us," she whispers.

She's looking up at one of the many windows of the new building. There are two girls staring down at us. I know it's probably me they're talking about. Wondering what I'm doing with such a sweet-looking girl, if I'm harrassing her.

"Are we a bother down here?" Bella frets.

"Of course not." I pull her out from behind me and order, "Try waving at them."

"What?!"

"You'll never make any friends if you always look so sad," I explain, ignoring the voice in my head that reminded me that her sad expression was what had first drawn me to her. "Try waving at them and smiling." I lift her hand. "C'mon. Big smile."

"Um..." She giggles nervously as she waves, trying to smile at the girls, but they're no longer there.

"Chicken nuggets!"

"...I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

She pops another nugget into her mouth. "These are really good," she repeats.

We both look up at the sky for a while. I wonder if, someday, there will be someone who will come down for her. Who'll see her smile from that window and rush down to meet her.

"If I can..." I turn back to look at her as she speaks. "If I can, I'd like to start a new drama club."

I smile. Good for her!

"You can. It's simple."

"Really?" A new hope lights her brown eyes.

"Yeah, if you really want it."

"I do, but I think it might be too hard... I'm not exactly the strongest person out there, physically... If you can... would you be the club president?"

"No," I reply, as gently but firmly as I can. "You'll be president. I have no interest in drama."

"Oh." Her faces falls into that most hated expression: disappointment.

"But don't quit before you've begun," I press.

"How can I not?" she counters. "It'll be lonely doing it by myself."

"What if you search for other members?"

She looks troubled. Or rather, she looks like she's regretting something that she can't back out of now.

I sigh. "Besides, you won't be alone."

She stares at me.

"I won't join the club," I clarify, "but I'll help you out."

"Really?"

She looks so excited and happy and hopeful that I can't bring myself to regret saying something that will, no doubt, bring me much regret in the future.

"Yep. Promise. I'll help you out until you've got a club you can reign over as proud president."

"Then... I'll do my best!"

"Good."

I vaguely wonder why the fuck I'm so happy about this. It's not my club. It's not my dream coming true. In fact, I just promised to waste the rest of my school year on this when I have always hated drama.

But I'm not worried about it. It's not like I have anything better to do. I'm an outsider, too, after all. I only have one friend. I also don't have to worry about exams and shit like that since I know I can't afford college. It simply isn't an option for me.

This just seems like a good thing to do in the meantime.

* * *

The final bell rings. School's officially over.

Emmett appears as the other kids in my class are leaving to go home.

"It's time," he announces dramatically.

"Your hair's all messed up," I state the obvious. "What kind of 'training' did you do, exactly?"

"I hung from a rod and did sit-ups."

"You're a liar. You were sleeping till just now."

He nods, not even trying to deny it. "Yep, but I'm awake now. Come close and you'll be in danger, boy!"

This asshat deserves to get taken down a few pegs.

"I'm ready," he says. "Let's go!"

"What do you want now?"

We're standing on the first floor of the old school building, where Emmett has called Tanya Harding out to meet him.

I sigh and explain, as he'd asked, "This guy here is my friend, Emmett. Please just listen to him for a few minutes. He'd like to tell you his true feelings."

I feel like a "true" tool saying the words, but I owe the asshole a dig so I grin and bear it.

"You make it sound like he's confessing love," the blond points out, smirking with evil enjoyment at the idea.

"Yeah, well, I'm not," Emmett retorts bluntly. "You really got me this morning."

"_I_ didn't do anything. You started it."

"That doesn't matter! All that matters is what happened!"

Yeah, you just contradicted yourself a little bit there, buddy...

Tanya seems to recognize that, too. She looks at me, raising an eyebrow. "Is he mentally challenged?"

"In many ways, yes."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not right here! And you! Stop agreeing with her! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"Oh, calm down," I insist, waving my hand airily in dismissal. "It was just a simple statement of fact."

"Shut up." He turns back to her, looking more frustrated by the minute. "Anyway, I underestimated you before, but now it's different."

"You just don't get it, do you? I'm in a completely different league than you," Tanya tries to explain, before smirking again. "But I can show you that much faster than I can tell you."

The implicit threat, given so straightfoward- and carelessly, sends a shiver up both our spines.

"Tch!" he scoffs. "Now it's you that's underestimating me!"

He's obviously not thinking clearly. This girl took him out with one punch this morning.

"It's as you say, Tanya," Emmett goes on.

"And what is that?"

"If he hasn't been in the mound for a while, even the best pitcher around can easily have his balls hit!"

I cringe, embarrassed for him. I would have phrased that differently.

Tanya looks at me again. "Translation, please?"

I shake my head, closing my eyes. "I don't even know."

She sighs and looks back at Emmett, painfully bored.

"This is taking too long. Get to point already."

"In short, I underestimated you before and I was out of practice."

She nods. "I suppose it's my turn to make a dramatic speech." She sighs again. "I'll make this real simple for you: I've been challenged many times by really persistent guys like you. It always ends up the same. I promise if you walk away now, no one will know about it. I won't tell anyone." It sounds like a good deal to me, sounding better all the time. She gives him a creepy, sinister grin. "Or will you not be satisfied until you're unable to show your face at school anymore?"

Emmett hesitates, and it's clear Tanya is starting to lose her patience. But of course, Emmett, having come this far, won't go down without a fight. Literally.

"I wonder which of us will really be unable to show their face here," he retorts, trying to sound suave, I suppose.

I can't resist ruining the effect by supplying, "You."

"_Shut up_!"

"Hey, you, outsider," Tanya calls to me. "Do I have your word that this will go down as legitimate self-defense?"

"Of course. He _is _the one calling you out, after all."

"Thanks." She gives me a small but genuine smile before turning back to Emmett, her cockily disinterested look firmly back in place. "How would you like to be beaten this time? Would you like to fly above the ground for a little while?"

"That might be fun," I muse aloud.

She winks at me. "And it's also my specialty. Watch this."

She charges Emmett. Caught off guard by her speed, Emmett makes a sloppy jab for her shoulder and misses.

She stops right in front of him, gathering up her strength it would seem. Then she kicks him many times, over and over, faster than lightning.

"Whoa, he really is flying," I say aloud, awed, as her kicks keep Emmett bouncing off her legs, never touching the ground.

"Outsider! The trash chute!"

"What? Oh, uh, yeah."

I yank down the lid of the trash chute attached to the wall of the hallway. Her last kick sense Emmett plunging into the trash chute head first. I'm amazed he can fit in there.

Then he gets stuck.

"Relax your shoulders," Tanya advises him carelessly. "It'll be over soon."

"You've gotta be kidding me! Help me, Cullen!"

He slides down further, only his feet holding him up. I debate helping him back up. Falling face-first into trash is some nasty shit, but at the same time, this is the second time he's challenged a girl. He tried to really hit her this time, with all his considerable strength. A large part of me is glad this is happening to him. I know it won't teach him a lesson, but he still suffered a little for what he tried to do.

I decide not to help him. He won't get hurt on this thing, I'm sure, because we used to throw cameras and shit down there as bored freshmen, just to see what was at the bottom, and how steep the ride is. It's not that bad, just the end is pretty gnarly as you dive into sometimes weeks-old trash.

Tanya walks up to the chute and grabs his foot.

"If I pull this away, you'll fall. What will you do?" He says nothing, but an audible gasp is heard from down the chute. "So you want to fall? I see."

"I didn't say anything!"

Her only response is to push against his foot with her pointer finger.

"Uh... I'm sorry! Forgive me! AHHHHHHH!" His scream echoes up the chute as he falls down it.

Then there's silence.

Tanya stands up straight, her mask dropped to reveal an extremely worried countenance. "Maybe I went too far... He might have died..."

"Trust me," I reassure, "he'll be fine. Pissed off, but fine." To prove my point, I open up the chute door again and shout down, "Hey! You ok down there?"

"I'M GONNA KILL HER!"

I shut the chute down and turn back to her with a grin. "See?"

"Oh," she smiles, "good. He's a nuisance, but I'd never want to kill him. Maybe he'll learn after this."

"I hate to disappoint you, but does he really strike you as that kind of guy? He doesn't learn from _anything_."

"That's a problem... Please tell him to stop coming after me?" she asks.

"I would if it would make a difference. He doesn't usually care what I say unless it agrees with him."

She's scandalized by this. "But isn't he your friend?"

"Of course. He's my best friend. That's just the way we operate."

She sighs. "So he'll keep coming after me..."

"...until he gives up," I finish, "which doesn't happen often, let me tell ya."

"What a mess I've gotten myself into..."

"It's funny. You don't actually seem that annoyed by him most of the time."

She smiles faintly, staring at the ground. "That's because, when I see the two of you together, I feel a little... nostalgic."

"For what?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing. Never mind. If you have any conscience at all, please make him stop."

I try to retain my image as I reply carelessly, "If I feel like it, I will."

She seems to see right through me and smiles. "I sincerely hope that you do."

She leaves and I sigh with boredom.

Well, now what? Should I go home?

No. Anywhere but there.

Instead, not two minutes later, I find myself upstairs outside the drama club room. Yet again.

I hear quick, pattering footsteps behind me and turn. It's Bella, running towards me.

"Edward!" She looks far too pleased to see me, and stops by my side. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you would have gone home by now, since you hate it here so much."

_Well, I hate going home even more so..._

"Yeah, sorry. It's just me."

"What do you mean 'just you'? I'm glad to see you here. When I saw you, I got so excited that I ran all the way up the stairs. Not the smartest thing to attempt, if you're me."

We smile at each other.

So I'm special to her, even though I have no manners or tact or worth whatsoever. Will wonders never cease?

"So what should we do?" she asks, looking towards the door.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

I open the door, and we're once again greeted by the sigh of cardboard boxes, equipment, and dust littering the room.

"First of all, it's time for some cleaning," I announce.

"True. But we should move most of these things out of here first."

"Good plan."

We pick up most of the equipment and boxes and carry them to another unused classroom, then grab some cleaning tools and get to work on the room.

By the time the sun begins to set, we've moved the stuff back into the room, pushed it all up against the far wall, and cleaned every inch of it. It looks quite nice now, if I do say so myself.

"This should do, right?" I ask.

"Yep!" Her caramel eyes are bright as she surveys the room. "We did it! Our clubroom is ready."

"Our? I'm not a member, remember?"

"Oh. Right."

Her face instantly falls, but I have to make this clear.

"I'm just helping you get started."

She tries to tempt me, "But drama is fun..."

"I'm not interested in drama. I'm here to help you. That's it."

"Really?" she asks, disappointed. But no matter how I hate that expression, I won't budge on this.

"Yeah. Sorry."

Her face falls again and she stares at the ground unhappily.

I sigh. "Don't worry, Bella. People will come, I promise."

"That's not the problem," she explains. "I really wanted _you _to be here. Regardless of how many others show up."

"Well, I'm happy to hear that, but..." I sigh again and try to sound diplomatic. "I'll think about it."

I doubt it'll be necessary, though. I know she only likes having me around so much because she doesn't have any other friends. If I got her some club members, she'd have more friends, and would likely forget she ever knew me.

But until then, I'll help her out.

We leave the building and walk down the hill, just like the other straggling students going home. I really didn't want to leave—and not just for the usual reason. Without really knowing why, I kind of didn't want to leave Bella. Actually... I didn't want to leave her at all.

"I'm hungry," I announce as we reach the bottom of the hill and pause at the three-way street intersection.

"Me, too."

"You want to go get something?"

She sighs and gives me a regretful smile. "Sorry, I can't. I have to make dinner for my parents and me."

"Oh, that's fine. I'll go get some fast food, then, I guess."

"Don't you want to eat with your family?" She looks confused at the idea of being so separated from her own.

"There isn't any food in the house."

Her jaw drops momentarily. I almost laugh at her scandalized expression.

"It's ok," I reassure her hastily, chuckling. "Me and my dad live alone. My mom died when I was a kid. Neither of us can cook, so we always eat out."

Looking slightly relieved at this, she nods as though she understands and asks, "Together?"

I throw my head back at the very idea. "Ha! Uh, no. We've kinda been on bad terms for a while now."

I marvel at myself for a moment. I've never told anyone that, even if I did only hint at the real problems, and yet I can just spit it out to her like it's cheesy talk on the weather?

"Did something happen between the two of you?"

"Yeah, a lot of things."

_Things you can't fix,_ I want to tell her. _Things no one can fix. So don't even try._

She shakes her head as though she can hear my thoughts. "You have to talk to him, even if it just leads to arguing. You'll never move past something if you can't even acknowledge it."

I neither agree nor disagree, I simply mutter, "I suppose."

"Well, then," she says after a brief period of semi-awkward silence, "why don't you come to dinner at my house?"

"Is that really ok?"

"Of course it is!" She laughs. "If I tell my parents you're a friend, I'm sure they'll be fine with it."

"I see."

It's clear she has a happy home life. I feel awkward at just the thought of entering such a place, but at the same time, I want to experience it. And I really want to avoid going home. So I accept her offer.

She turns and points down the road extending to our left and directs, "If you go straight from here to the park, there's a bakery upfront there."

"Ok..."

"That's my house."

"Really?" For some reason, her living in a bakery doesn't surprise me. It seems fitting almost. Like she's out of a fairytale and lives in a woodcutter's cottage. But instead, she's shy and lonely and lives in a quaint bakery.

"Mm-hmm," she agrees, looking down another road. "I'll meet you there, ok? I have to go... pick up some ingredients for dinner first."

"Wait, why don't I just come with you? It'll be really weird if I just show up on your parents' doorstep claiming to be your friend."

"We're wearing the same school uniform," she points out reassuringly. "They'll believe you."

"That's not the problem!" I'm getting a bit frantic. I don't deal well with most adults, especially nice ones. I always say or do something to screw up and I want this to work. I want them to like me. I don't know why, but I really, really do. If she's not there to translate or recover for me, they're just gonna end up hating me like everyone else. "Even if they believe me, it'll be really weird to just sit there and watch TV with your parents while I wait for you."

"Why?" She looks genuinely confused. "You have nothing to worry about, trust me. My family's not weird. We're all good friends."

That in and of itself is weird! I can't even imagine a family like that! And why is she being so evasive? Does she not want to be seen out with me or something? In exasperation, I throw my head back with a sigh and stare at the sky for a few moments, trying to calm myself. The sun has almost completely gone down, but the sky remains pinky-orange.

When I look back at Bella, she's already halfway down the other road, waving cheerfully back to me.

"If you go to the park, you can't miss it!" she calls.

I guess she's a bit naive. I never realized that before. I debate just going to pick up my dinner at the convenience store and going to Emmett's like always. What would she do? Knowing this new facet to her personality as I do, I realize she'd probably think I got lost on the way to her house and end up searching for me.

No, I won't do that. Today will be one of those rare days where I don't regret slipping out of my usual listlessness and enjoy my actions. I'll eat dinner at her house.

I start walking to the park, as directed, mind made up. On one side facing the park itself is a nice two story house with a bakery downstairs. It must be it.

It must be a prosperous store, because it looks damn professional from the outside. The whole front is windows, there's one of those electric sliding glass doors, and inside I can see racks and racks of different kinds of bread and bagels, along with a standing Pepsi cooler filled with different Pepsi drink products.

I war with myself: to enter or not to enter? That is the question. I shake my head at myself. I'm such a tool. In the end, I step on the black mat, the door slides open with a chime, and I go inside.

There's no one in the shop.

"Hello?" I call out.

There are two doors leading out of the shop, both of which are open. One seems to lead to the actual living portion of the house, splitting into an upstairs and a same-level floor as the shop. The other seems to lead to the actual bakery, where the goods are baked.

No one emerges from either door.

I look around once more. Even though it's late, there's a good bit of bread left on one of the shelves, and one or two pieces on all the others. They all look fucking delicious.

"Hello!"

Just as I'm about to take a piece of bread off the fullest shelf, a voice, slightly absent but very warm and friendly, greets me from behind.

I turn around, surprised, and see a woman who looks shockingly like Bella. The same color brown hair, though this woman's hair has a natural curl to it that Bella's doesn't have. Their eyes are the same shape, but not the same color. Hers are a bright blue. She looks young and happy. Far too young and happy to be Bella's mother.

Maybe she's her sister? But Bella didn't say anything about having a sister...

"That's this week's new product," she informs me cheerfully, pointing to the rack I had been reaching for. "Please try it."

"What's the price?"

She shakes her head, shrugging off my question. "Oh, that's alright. They're just leftovers."

"Really? Sweet!" Anything free is good in my book.

"The concept behind it is 'calming.' I made them myself."

I shrug and take a bite, but instead of the soft bread I'm expecting...

_CRUNCH_.

"There's a cracker inside," she gleefully points out. "Isn't it amazing?"

It's horrible. How is this store so successful, selling shit like this?

"It'll be loved by all the children and elderly, won't it?"

It'll be hated by all the children and elderly. Especially the elderly, who'll probably break their dentures on this shit.

"I'll name it... Cracker Bread!"

My prolonged silence seems to make her nervous. Her smile drops and she stares at me anxiously. "Umm... is it not good?"

"Well... no, not really."

She blinks. "Is it the name? I wasn't confident about it anyway..."

"Not really," I repeat. "The whole idea of putting a cracker in bread is just wrong. They're too completely different foods. One's salty, the other's sweet. One's hard, the other's soft."

"But doesn't that make them better, being together?"

I can tell I'm going to have to be blunt. "It tasted awful."

Her face falls, her big blue eyes instantly swimming in tears. With a muffled sob, she turns and runs out the door into the park across the street.

"H-Hey!" I call after her. "Where are you going?!"

And I'm alone once more in their store. Terrific. That meeting went well. And Bella said her parents weren't weird? Now I'm _really_ worried. Please let her father, at least, be normal.

"Do you realize what you just did?" growls a male voice behind me. I gulp and slowly turn to see a man about my own height standing in the doorway, a cigarette in his mouth and a baseball bat in his hands.

Fuck my life.

I beg any god there might be to let this not be her father, but I can tell he is. Bella looks like him, too. Same color eyes, same straight hair. He's just as young as his wife, though. Weirdly young. Too young to be parents of a kid Bella's age, that's for sure.

He also has this air about him that's oddly familiar... Like he was a 'bad seed' in high school, too, and is used to being looked down on—but also that, with age, he's come to care less and less for what other people think.

He glares at me, calmly toying with his cigarette. The effect is somewhat ruined by the Frogger apron he wears. "You should have just said it was delicious and ate it," he tells me. "What's wrong with kids these days? Where's your sense of duty? And charity?"

My gaze darts around the shop frantically, praying for Bella to come back soon. I don't know how to handle this guy.

"Reality's a bitch," he informs me crudely, and I kind of like him a little more for not being afraid to sound rude. "How dare you expose her to that reality just because her bread tastes a little off?"

_A little off?_ If that doesn't sound like a doting husband I don't know what does. That thing was vile.

"Go find her and tell her the bread was good!"

I stare at him.

"The people around here eat her bread and say it's delicious. It's an unspoken law. You just broke the law. Now take your punishment like a man and say it's good!"

I continue to stare. I wonder just what the hell Bella's definition of "weird" is if she doesn't recognize the quality in her parents. Her father seems to lose interest in me. His brown eyes snap around the shop, taking inventory. He sighs at the the leftovers on the rack behind me.

"Lots of leftovers today, too," he grumbles. He does a tally of the ones on the rack behind me. "Only one of hers sold?"

That would be the one I'm holding...

I start to edge toward the door, hoping to escape while this dude is distracted, but he notices me again. This time, he looks at my outfit.

"Isn't that the same uniform my daughter wears?"

"Yeah..."

"You a friend of Bella's, kid?"

"Yeah."

He laughs. "You should've said so earlier! No wonder you were such a little shit to my wife. You go to that preppy, rich-kid school."

I glare at him. "That doesn't make me a rich kid, or preppy. I just happen to go there."

He nods. "Good for you." I seem to gain some points with him. "Bella's not home yet," he informs me as if I don't already know, "but you can wait for her in the living room. It's just through that door, straight on back."

"A-Actually, I really should be going—" I start to reject, before he interrupts me.

"Chicken shit."

My eyes narrow. "Excuse me?"

"Losing your nerve before she even gets here? And you call yourself a man?"

He's misunderstood the reason behind my nervousness, but I'll take it. I wouldn't want him to get offended. Who knows what he'd do then?

He suddenly drags me with surprising strength back through the house-door, bypassing the stairs and heading back to a small living room-slash-dining room area. A kitchen peaks through an archway just past the table, where I'm forcibly sat.

"You'll stay here and face her," he declares. "Consider it a coming-of-age thing. You gotta grow up sometime. Face your fears and all that shit."

When his wife returns and is explained the situation, she sits down across from me and looks abashed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were Bella's friend. It's a bit embarrassing, really. I never would've acted so forward if I'd realized..."

But she'll be that forward to customers? Then again, I suppose you had to with today's economy. Even though this is the only bread and bagel place in Forks.

"It doesn't matter," the father dismisses on my behalf. "The big news is that Bella brought someone home with her! After only three days!"

"And a _boy _on top of that, Charlie!"

His excited face instantly drops into one of complete disdain and suspicion as he stares me down. "What?" he demands flatly.

He only just realized it now? _Fuck you!_

"Are you two dating?" his wife asks me happily.

Before I can deny it, the man apparently known as Charlie scoffs. "As if I'd give my baby girl to such a weakling! Go on, get outta here, kid. Go home."

I stand and try to say politely to the woman, "I guess I'll be going, then."

Charlie scoffs again. "And you call yourself a man?" he repeats. "If you _were_ a man, you'd take the girl you love and run. Of course, there's no way I'd let you have _my_ girl."

"Won't you please stay for dinner?" Bella's mother asks, smiling up at me. "Bella's not home yet, but she's making a really good one tonight. Steak and potatoes. You can have some of this as an appetizer."

She extends a bowl of leftover bread across the table to me and I stare at it doubtfully.

"I'm home!" I feel an altogether overwhelming sense of relief at hearing Bella's clear voice ring out from down the hall.

"Bella!" Her mother runs out of the room to greet her daughter with a little too much enthusiasm in my opinion. I mean, they'd just seen each other that morning, right?

Charlie notices my hesitation to the bread. "I made those, you don't have to worry," he mutters around his cigarette. "They're pretty damn good, too, if I do say so myself." He raises his voice to be heard in the shop and says teasingly, "The princess has returned!"

I take a piece of the bread out of the basket and nibble off a bite. My eyes widen in surprise. It _is _good. No wonder they're so successful—it's Charlie running the show. He must give his wife that one shelf in the shop to make her feel like she's helping, too.

Bella comes into the room with her mother and smiles at the sight of her father and I sitting at the table, eating his leftover bread. I notice that, despite her earlier excuse to get rid of me, she carries no shopping bags.

"What'd I tell you?" she smiles at me. "I knew you'd be fine with them."

Her father nods and smiles at her, exaggerating his pride and posturing, "You can always trust me to make your friends feel at home, darling."

I barely resist the urge to snort. He's such a tool for his daughter. Good thing I'll never have kids. I don't want to end up like him.

"We'd never let one of Bella's friends be bored around us," her mother agrees, smiling too. Suddenly, the three of them ball up their right fists and thrust them into the air, cheering. Um... is that some kind of dictator move? Like the goddamn Nazis or something?

"What's with the dumb look?" Charlie demands, knocking some ash off the end of his cigarette into a ray on the table.

"I was just thinking that it's probably not safe to become involved with this family."

Her father lets out a loud peal of laughter, then reassures his worried-looking daughter, "See? We're already close enough to make harsh jokes about each other!"

She smiles again, relieved, and announces, "Well, unless we're eating this bread for dinner, I better go get started."

"I'll help you!" Renee immediately offers, rising and following her into the adjoining kitchen.

As soon as they're gone, Charlie closes his eyes and mutters to me, "Bella's a fantastic cook and she's teaching Renee to be more... traditional. They'll make normal food for dinner; don't worry."

About an hour passes while Charlie and I get more acquainted and Bella and Renee make dinner. I decide that I rather like Charlie. He's absolutely nothing like me, and yet there's something about him that's familiar. Even though I obviously like Bella more, he's actually the one I'm most comfortable with of the Swan family.

When the meal is finally prepared and Renee is setting the table, Bella returns and sits across from me, beaming as she says, "I hope you like pork cutlet. It can take a while to make, but I think it's worth it in the end. We make it with a garlic salt breading and a homemade sauce that's..."

I rather tune her out, but act like I'm listening. I guess this is the real Bella Swan. She's chattier than I would have thought, but it's kind of cute that she's so into her cooking.

She'd changed so much just by being around her family. I couldn't even bring half that exuberance out of her, even trying my hardest. I feel rather inferior. I'd lost to her parents.

_But_, I cheer myself up, _we did just meet. I'll have plenty of opportunities to—wait, why the hell do I even care about this?_

"This is great!" Charlie cheers, and I realize I've been sitting here thinking when there's food in front of me.

"Really?" Bella beams, relieved. "I'm so glad!"

"The boy agrees, right?" he prompts, and his brown eyes—Bella's eyes, but so shockingly different—promise me pain if I say even one wrong word.

I nod emphatically, digging into my dinner kind of rudely, but Bella just smiles at me.

"Oh!" Renee suddenly exclaims. "We never asked you your name."

"He's Edward Cullen," Bella pipes up cheerfully.

"Stupid name," Charlie grunts into his food, and Bella rolls her eyes.

"Would you mind if I called you something else?" Renee asks me. "How about something more lasting? What about Milky Way Cullen?"

I stare, waiting for the punch line, but it doesn't come. I distinctly hear Charlie snort with laughter into his food, but he makes no move to help me. "No. My name is Edward."

"Oh," she replies, "then how about the last name? May I change it to Universe?"

"No. It's Cullen."

She sighs as though I'm being difficult. "But we need something to show your more sensitive side. What about Edward Eternal? Or, even better, Cosmic Cullen?"

This time, Charlie loses it completely. He lets out a loud guffaw, and I glare at him while responding, "My name is Edward Cullen."

Charlie, still chuckling, ignores me and asks, "Hey, Eternal, how's Bella's school life?"

"It's Cullen!" I snap, getting fed up with this. And Bella thought her parents weren't weird?

Then, as if she can hear my thoughts, Bella lets out a suppressed giggle, and I realize her parents have been joking with me from the beginning. I can feel my face heating up in embarrassment. I'm not used to family banter, or whatever you'd call it.

"Cosmo, head out of the clouds or I eat your desert."

And he's still messing with me, but I don't know how to respond. How far is too far with adults?

When desert is finally over another hour and a half later, Bella walks me outside.

"Sorry we kept you so late," she says, "but did you enjoy yourself even a little?" I hesitate, and she notices. "Edward?"

"It was weird," I finally admit. Before she can get upset again, I add, "Knowing that such a family exists. One that gets along so well."

She blinks, surprised. "Really? I thought we were pretty ordinary..."

We stand there in silence for a while, in the dark, and I stare at the metal garage-style doors that now cover the outside of the store, uneasy and somewhat embarrassed at the feeling still radiating from Bella, echoing what I'd felt in her house. Something warm and somehow comforting. I wonder what the feeling is.

We say goodnight and I walk home, pondering it. I was suddenly pushed into this home with a weirdly close family, and treated almost like one of their own. They were so foreign to me, they almost didn't seem real.

I enter my own house and stop in the living room. It's still a mess, and my father is curled up in the corner again with some liquor, probably tormenting himself. He glances at me, and I can see him start to smile politely.

I immediately turn and run. Why is my family so different from theirs? Why was I not allowed to have that feeling all the time? That weirdly warm kindness that just makes you feel completely at ease with yourself? Even an outsider like me could appreciate it, whatever it was.

Before I knew it, I was outside Bella's house again. I knew why, though. Subconsciously, I'd wanted to experience that feeling again. When her parents treated me like a kid and teased me so comfortable, it felt like I had returned to when I was younger. I had no responsibilities, and people who cared about me. It was a dizzying feeling, but tantalizing too.

"If it's alright..." I hear a voice from behind me and turn. It's Bella, standing in the white glow of a street lamp. Face glowing, hair shining, and eyes closed peacefully, she holds her hand out to me, and I think I've never seen anyone so beautiful or so pure. "If it's alright, shall I take you... to the place in this town where wishes come true?"

I'm frozen. She literally looks like a small angel from another world.

I try to respond, but my voice is strained, my body paralyzed. Finally, I choke out the word, "Yeah," and I realize my voice trembles embarrassingly.

She opens her eyes and then...

The spell is broken. Whatever hold she'd had on me for that moment is gone, and she's Bella and I'm Edward again. She's still pure and good, but that ethereal beauty has vanished.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, tilting her head to the side. "Didn't you go home?"

I still can't speak for a moment, too shocked by myself to form coherent thought. I manage, "Yeah, I did..."

"Did you forget something?"

"...No..."

I marvel at her, only just realizing how calm I feel. That helpless, raging feeling from my father is gone. I hadn't even realized how easily I'd let go until now. She made me calm instantly.

"No," I repeat, clearing my throat and attempting to act normal. "I just went home too early."

"What?" she asks blankly. "But it's so late!" Then she smiles, her expression clearing. "Ah, I forgot you're a 'delinquent.'"

"Yeah."

"Seems hard to be one," she continues conversationally.

"Not really. You can do whatever you want."

Her discerning eyes meet mine, something very close to pity but not in them. "And yet," she surmises, "it seems like you're never doing anything."

Refusing to linger too long on that thought, I change the subject by asking, "Anyway, what are you doing out here?"

"I was practicing drama." She shrugs. "I always practice out here at night."

"...That doesn't seem safe." Even a town this small had crime. Was she an idiot or a masochist?

She smiles, shaking her head. "I'm not normally out here _this _late. I got off to a late start after dinner. And then you came back and I decided to show you a little bit of my acting. Not very good, huh?"

So that was all an act? Even still, that was damn good for her to have me transfixed as she had for a moment.

"Edward?"

I can't find the words to give her performance justice, so I answer, "It was alright. But you should be inside now. It's dangerous out here this late."

Her face falls, and she mutters to the ground slightly petulantly, like a little kid, "I don't want to go to school tomorrow."

I sigh. "Bella, it was really good. Honest to God. I'm not trying to be mean here, I just don't think you realize the situation you're putting yourself in out here. Even a town this size has crime. I don't want to see you become a victim of it."

She wipes to edge of her eye with her finger. "You should choose your words more carefully," she reproaches me. "You almost made me cry."

She still looks like a little kid, and it makes me feel a bit guilty. I look away, not responding, and wait until she's back to normal.

"Are you still going somewhere before going home?" she finally asks, breaking the silence.

"That's the plan," I agree with a nod.

She frowns at me. "You'll be late tomorrow."

"Maybe," I shrug. "But it's not like that's unusual for me. Bad seed, remember?"

She narrows her eyes at me as if she's thinking pretty hard. "I don't believe that," she announces. "You don't seem bad at all."

"I am at heart," I tell her, half-hoping she believes me because then she won't hurt herself by being around me, but also half-hoping she fights me on it. Makes _me_ believe otherwise.

Instead, she changes the subject. Or so I think. "You told me that you're on bad terms with your dad," she states, but it sounds more like a question.

Confused by the switch, I reply, "Yeah..."

"I think that's it," she surmises. "You don't like your father, so you go out and walk around until you're sure he's asleep... But by that time, it's really late and you sleep in. So you come in to school late and get a bad reputation. Am I wrong?"

"...You have a really overactive imagination, don't you?" I ask, not letting her see how shocked I am. I had no idea she was so sharp.

Her face falls into a surprise that mirrors my own emotions. "I really am wrong?"

Unable to lie to those eyes that just want to help me—me and everyone else she comes in contact with, even at the expense of her own happiness—I shake my head and respond, "No. We don't even know each other that well... You're a good guesser."

"It wasn't a guess," she argues. "I think I know you pretty well. You're so nice to me. There was no way you could be as bad as they say. After I realized that, there could have only been one reason for you to act the way you do."

I shrug. "So what are you gonna do?"

She blushes and looks down, mumbling, "You gave me the strength and courage to start going after what I want. So I want to be your strength, too. I want to give you courage."

"Courage to fight my father?" I ask, a little surprised. I thought she was so prim and proper.

"No!" she answers quickly, shaking her head vehemently. "Fighting doesn't solve anything."

"Then what am I gonna have the courage to do?"

She hesitates but meets my eyes, a speculative look in hers. "It may take a long time..."

I shrug again. "That's fine. We're still kids. We've got nothing but time."

I look up at the evening cloud that reflects the faint moonlight hanging over her house.

"Would you like to live in my house?"

I blink, returning my gaze to her. She stands there facing me earnestly, even with a red face. She'd made that offer with all her heart, but not for the usual reasons, as she went on, "I think the two of you should be separated for a while. Then you'll both be lonely, and start to remember each other fondly. Then, the next time you meet, you'll be able to talk it out without all these emotions so strong in you. Besides, you should sleep at night so you'll be on time for school. If you can't do that at home, you have to try to do it somewhere else. It's killing two birds with one stone! How about it?"

For some reason, even though I know it's horrible of me to infect her life further with my presence, I can't help but respond, "You may have a point." But then I shake my head, starting to turn back down the road. "You're too trusting, Bella."

"No, I'm really not," her soft voice sounds behind me. "You spoke to me when no one else would. You said you'd help me start up a new drama club and have been doing that every day since. That's all I need to label you as a good person, and for that, I trust you."

It's odd how I can think horrible things about myself and almost relish them, but I can't bear to hear her say good things about me.

Saying nothing, I walk away.

* * *

I visit Emmett's house that night, too.

"You still alive?" I ask upon entering his bedroom. He's face-down on his desk.

"Aren't trash chutes supposed to be made so that people can't get in?" he groans, not moving. Ah, I'd almost forgotten his little flight into the garbage of Forks Private.

When I sit down on his bed, though, he straightens up.

"Cullen... she's seriously strong."

"No shit," I scoff, rolling my eyes.

He shakes his head emphatically. "There are no girls stronger than guys! So I'm thinking... Could it be she's actually a guy?"

"...Do you have any concept of self-preservation at all?" I demand finally.

"What do you mean?"

I snort, flopping back on the bed. "Try saying that to her."

He closes his eyes and attempts to imagine it. He cringes, probably seeing himself flying in his mind. Then he does a whole body flinch, probably being cremated in his vision.

He chuckles nervously as he opens his eyes. ''...Let's forget about that."

"You don't want to be cremated?" I ask lazily.

He cringes again, bellowing, "I wouldn't imagine it that far! Anyway, I'm gonna confirm it, so it won't come to that either way."

"Confirm what?"

"Whether she's a guy or not!"

"How?" I ask sitting up on my elbows and glaring at him suspiciously.

"There are plenty of ways," he smirks cockily, "I'll just go through 'em all 'til I find one that works."

I fall back on the bed again and look at the ceiling, sarcastically narrating to it, "At this point, Emmett McCarty was still unaware that he had begun to walk down the path... of a pervert."

"I can hear you, you know."

"That would've been the point of saying it out loud, yes," I snark back.

"Anyway, I'm not gonna do anything perverted!" he defends, rubbing his hands together like he's going to start a fire. "You'll see; this plan will go off without a hitch."


	6. Thursday & Friday, March 4-5, 2010

_Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer and Clannad belongs to Key_

* * *

Thursday, March 4, 2010

I wake up in my own bedroom with bright sunlight streaming through my blue curtains. I'm aware that I'd been dreaming, something related to my past, but as I stare at the ceiling and try to recall it, it slowly disappears altogether. All that's left is a feeling of complete ease.

I roll out of bed and change into my uniform. Judging from the time, first period has already started. Still, it's better than my usual time. I grab my empty bag and head for the first floor. My old man is nowhere to be seen. I weave my way through the trash littering the floor and head to the foyer. I put on my shoes, lock the door, and leave the house.

I slowly walk to school, wasting time, but when I get to the bottom of the school hill, I let out a groan of exasperation. Bella is standing there, not even attempting to climb it.

"Good morning," I call as I stop next to her, deciding to approach this issue gently, even though it definitely needs to be approached.

She turns and smiles at me. "Morning."

I look around pointedly and ask, "What are you doing here?"

She meets my eyes as she answers calmly, "I was waiting for you."

"Waiting for...?" I repeat blankly.

"Yes," she replies, and blushes as she stares down now. "I, um, thought we could walk together now."

"What?" I'm so lost. I thought I had effectively ruined any good thoughts she'd had of me last night when I just walked away from her.

"If it bothers you, we don't have to..."

"But..." The only thing my rather frazzled mind can come up with is, "But aren't you here on time every morning? Why wait? Do you still have trouble with the hill?"

I glance up at the gate, randomly wondering if she still equates climbing the hill to bravery.

"Like I said, I can try on my own..." she mumbles, holding her hair back from the wind and blushing.

I shake my head, unable to fight that look. "But you'll be late if you wait for me," I say as a last-ditch effort.

"Compared to not going at all, being late is fine," she retorts.

Spoken like a true delinquent. That settles it for me. I shake my head again, firmer this time. "No, I can't let you be late for me. You have to go, even if you're alone."

She cringes, ducking her head and chokes out, "I'll try." I can hear how close to tears she is.

"But..." I add on a sigh, "I don't really mind when I'm on time. Us walking together, that is."

She'd said I was her strength, and that oddly enough made me quite proud. So I say, "Let's go," and start walking up the hill with her in silence.

But then I stop.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Aren't you going to bribe yourself with what you want to eat for lunch?" I prompt.

She blushes again, but smiles at me. "No. I can do my best just by walking with you."

"I see." I pause, then offer, "In that case, let's get lunch together. You'll want those chicken nuggets again today, right?"

"Yes."

As we start walking again, I marvel at myself. I'd made her yet another weird promise. I'd known her three days and she'd already started working all kinds of shit out of me that I'd never thought possible.

And it didn't bother me in the slightest.

* * *

"Hello, Late One," is the first thing I hear upon entering the classroom... from the last voice I would have expected.

"You're here earlier than me?" I ask blankly. "How—? No. This must be a dream. Lemme try pinching you."

"You're supposed to pinch your own damn self!" Emmett snaps.

I whip my hand out and pinch his arm before he can react. Hey, he's good for strength, not reflexes.

"Huh," I deadpan, squeezing tightly and letting go, "if this were reality, that would've hurt you."

"It _did_ hurt, jackass!" He scoffs self-importantly. "I'm just not a crybaby."

_Yeah, I'm not even going to bother. It's too easy._

"Anyway, what _are_ you doing here?" I ask instead.

His face morphs into this freakish facade of determination and gentile suffering. "I'm here to cleanse myself of my dishonor."

"...You've been reading manga again, haven't you?"

"Shut up!"

I roll my eyes but respond, "Alright, I'll bite. What dishonor?"

"The dishonor of losing to a woman," he answers, returning to his act. "Today, I'll prove that she's really a man."

I nod slowly, processing this. "So you woke yourself up early and came to school on time for the first time in _years_... just to get beaten up again?" I shake my head and continue before he can start bellowing, "Blast my morbid curiosity, but just how are you planning to accomplish this?"

He shrugs. "I thought I'd start off easy. I'll just ask her questions, all casual and shit, and her answers will reveal the truth."

My eyes narrow of their own volition. This oaf wouldn't know casual if it bit him in the ass. "Such as?" I prompt skeptically.

"Ok, like today. I'll ask, 'Hey, can I borrow your razor?' Ya know, stuff like that."

Ok, yeah, to as person like him, I'm sure that seems like a casual enough question to ask of a near stranger. And I'm not even going near the fact that he doesn't seem to realize women shave too. This idiot deserves what's coming.

So I play along. "And how do you plan to broach this subject?"

He shrugs, answering pleasantly, "It'll just come up naturally."

He confidently struts out of the room, right as the bell rings. Once again, I'm fairly certain that I hear someone call my name softly as I follow him out, but when I turn back, no one's looking at me—they're all too busy scrambling to pack up and dash off to their next hellhole. Even the teacher is preoccupied packing.

Shrugging it off, I continue down the hall.

* * *

"As you can _clearly_ see, I'm in a hurry here," a very pissed off but scarily subdued Tanya opens this period's beat-down.

"Oh, are you?" Emmett asks, beaming in a creepy attempt at benign. "Sorry, man. I'm not trying to pick a fight or nothing."

"Then what do you want?" she asks suspiciously.

"Can we walk over there and talk?" he stage-whispers, gesturing to a spot a few feet away from me, as if he'd be embarrassed to speak in front of me.

Rolling her eyes, she pins me down with a flat look and demands, "What is he up to this time?"

I shrug in response. _Don't worry, honey. You'll find out and put this whole asinine thing to an end very soon._

She shakes her head with an impatient sigh and says, "I'm sure the walk is unnecessary, so let's skip it, if you don't mind. What do you want?"

"Oh... here?" Emmett glances at me and away quickly, then to the floor. He can almost pull off the embarrassed look. It probably would help him if I'd play along and act confusedly interested, but I won't. "Ok, fine." He chuckles nervously and dives right in. "This morning I, like, overslept."

Tanya blinks. "Are you in the midst of an identity crisis? Seriously."

He ignores her, plunging ahead, "So I couldn't shave at home and now I'm all stubbly, you know how it is. So, sorry about this, but could I borrow your razor?"

"Why on earth would I lend you one?" she answers waspishly.

"Ah-HA! Gotcha! Hear that, Cullen?"

Tanya looks between us, confused and a little alarmed at Emmett's triumph. "What? What is this all about?"

"What you just said!" Emmett tells her.

Her eyebrows furrow. "And what's wrong with what I said?"

"It means that you have a razor to lend out and are therefore—"

"You're even dumber than you look," she cuts him off. "When I said 'why,' I meant that I have no obligation to lend you any of my stuff. On top of that, don't you know it's rude to ask this stuff of a stranger?"

She lashes out with her right leg, kicking him hard and fast, and I count the strikes to amuse myself. She leaves off after a particularly vicious eighth kick, which I think is fair punishment.

As she lowers her leg and straightens her uniform, Tanya announces, "Self-defense."

"_What?_" Emmett shrieks from the floor. "How? I never even raised a finger against you!"

"Yup," I agree with her, echoing some of the first words I'd ever heard her say, "legitimate self-defense."

She doesn't seem to hear me. Her face goes dark with some unknown worry as she warns Emmett's prone figure, "Please don't bother me anymore. I have a horrible temper, and I may end up hitting you harder than I mean to. Or even without meaning to."

So said, she turns around and returns to her classroom, shutting the door behind her. She doesn't even look back to enjoy the satisfaction of seeing her shitty opponent heave himself off the floor.

"Back to the drawing board, eh?" I can't resist taunting.

"Shut up."

For all of next period, Emmett never once looks at the slideshow on the lesson, and he never stops mumbling to himself darkly.

Finally, as the teacher begins packing up but tries to nail home the last few points of her lecture to no one's notice, Em looks at me and announces, "Those surprisingly large breasts of hers... they're definitely fake."

I stare at him. "_That's_ what you've been thinking about this whole time?"

"Admit it," he snaps back, "there's just something fake about them."

I shake my head, shrugging in a 'so what?' gesture, adding for good measure, "So what if there is?"

"...So I'll say I want to borrow her breasts! If I say that, she'll just respond, 'Sure, here!' without even thinking."

Thus, we instantly establish two reasons why this latest scheme is doomed to failure. Reason one: he clearly doesn't understand how fake boobs work, and reason two: as Tanya had pointed out herself, why would she loan him anything?

But I say nothing to this effect, instead opting for, "But how will you just ask to borrow her boobs?"

He smirks cockily. "There are plenty of ways. C'mon!"

He leaves the room, laughing stupidly to himself all the way.

I roll my eyes and follow. Out in the hall, I once again hear a voice calling me shyly, but this time I ignore it on purpose. Whoever it is could have approached me anytime before I'd left the room. This person is seriously starting to piss me off by calling me just before I leave and then acting like they said nothing. If he or she wanted to talk to me, they could talk to me in the class or leave off.

* * *

Tanya sighs, closing her classroom door behind her, the last one to leave her class. "I think this is a new record for me. You really are persistent."

Emmett laughs her off cheerily. "Oh, no, I'm not here to start anything. I just came to see you."

She quirks an eyebrow at him and responds flatly, "You know I don't believe that."

"Really!" he protests. "It's good for my reputation to be seen talking to such a beautiful girl."

Oh, God, I really hope he gets it now. Flirting with a girl just to prove something is a new low even for him. Even though she's skeptical, it's clear his new attitude is flustering her.

"D-Don't say something like that if you don't mean it," she finally snaps.

"But I do!" he answers, still smiling creepily. "You're gorgeous!" He glances at his watch and feigns shock. "How'd it get so late? My next class has already started and I still can't find my prop! Tanya, let me borrow your breasts for this next class! Please!"

"What? Why?" she returns, shocked and slightly disgusted by the thought just as I had been when he proposed his scheme.

"Ah-HA! Gotcha this time! Asking me 'why' means you can lend them to me, which means you can take them off!"

"Uh, no, they're definitely a permanent fixture," Tanya retorts. Emmett's triumph falls into confused disappointment.

"But on top of that," she continues, "YOU REALLY THINK I'D FALL FOR A LESSON THAT USES _TITS_?!"

For the first time since I've met her, Tanya totally loses her cool and screams, right before hauling off and kicking his ass into the fourth dimension.

"Legitimate self-defense," I announce as soon as she finishes with him, smirking at Emmett's prone form.

She smiles at me somewhat shyly and agrees, "Um, yeah."

"You..." Emmett snarls, but trails off.

"Yes?" Tanya prompts, raising her brows menacingly.

Scoffing scornfully, Emmett roses and walks off. So he couldn't even come up with a decent parting shot. Pathetic.

* * *

"Damn it," Emmett curses, seemingly to himself as the teacher takes a small break in the lesson to change powerpoints. "I couldn't think of any insults to throw at her..."

"Yeah, I saw that," I snicker.

"Well, I'll show her after this class," he returns doggedly.

I nod, smirking to myself as I think of his next humiliation. "I'm looking forward to it."

The class resumes, and the two of us go back to ignoring humanity until it's over. When it does finally end, I turn to Emmett, who is not-so-innocently examining his nails with a rare degree of concentration.

"Well, the break you've been waiting for is here," I announce, playing along to his little charade that he hasn't noticed everyone else leaving the room.

He laughs awkwardly. "It's... Already? ...Maybe I'll just wait until after fourth period. 'Good things to those who wait,' and all that."

"Sure, man," I laugh. _Coward._ "All you did was get beaten up, anyway."

"Lies! God as my witness, I dodged them all."

"Oh, please," I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Half the sophomore class saw you crying on the floor afterwards. Your lies fool no one." He glares at me, but wisely says nothing. "So will you give up now?" I ask.

"No. I still haven't gotten back my honor. I'll definitely prove that Tanya is a man."

"Come up with another plan, then?"

"What do you think schools hours are for?" he laughs cockily.

Maybe _school_?

"Here it is: if she's a guy, there's one thing she won't refuse after a fight. What is it?"

"Who the hell could know that?"

"It's so simple but you still don't... You're not a real man, dude," he informs me, shaking his head. Then he announces, "Go to the bathroom together! After a fight, everything's fine and dandy between pretty-boys! If she's a guy, she won't refuse going there together after a fight. And when she's in there, we can see just what kind of junk is in the junk, if ya know what I mean."

He's even dumber than I thought. Even _he_ would refuse going to the bathroom with someone all chummy-like right after a brawl.

"Alright, let's go!" Rotating his right shoulder, he leaves the room.

I suppose I'll go bear witness to his stupidity. The voice asks for me again, and I glance behind me reflexively as I step out into the hall, but there's still no one looking at me. Shaking my head angrily, I stomp off down the stairs and down the sophomore hall to stand just behind Emmett, who is looking at an already-pissed off Tanya.

"Didn't I _just _tell you dimwits to stop this?"

"This time it's different," Emmett immediately responds.

"You always say that and yet it always ends up being the same."

"This time it's different," he insists. "THIS TIME IT'S DIFFERENT!"

All of a sudden, Emmett lunges for her only to be delivered a sharp kick to the gut. Some nice reflexes that girl has on her. He hits the wall behind himself hard, crying out dramatically.

"Are you ok?" Tanya asks worriedly. "I guess I accidentally kicked you too hard. I told you that would happen! Stop this before I really hurt you."

It's not a threat. She's honestly worried about hurting him for some unknown reason.

Blowing off her concern with a scoff, Emmett climbs to his feet and orders, "Come with me for a minute."

Oh God. This is how he's planning to get her into the bathroom with him? This fucking idiot. He deserves another take-down. Harder than the last!

"What now?" Tanya demands, exasperated.

"Nothing. Just follow me."

He takes off and she reluctantly follows after a confused glance to me, shaking her head. They turn a corner into the men's bathroom. There's a pause, then I hear the sounds of a loud collision, followed by the sound of shattering glass. She must have punched him into the mirrors.

She comes tearing out of the bathroom and gets right up in my face, her own face red, eyes blazing, shrieking, "WHAT ARE YOU TWO PLAYING AT? Trying to lure me into the men's _bathroom_?! My_God_, there's no end to the harassment you two give me!"

I look away disinterestedly, shoving my hands in my pockets as I inform her blandly, "He wants to see if you're really a girl."

There's a moment of stunned silence while Tanya seems to choke on her own words. Unable to stop myself, I glance to her and instantly regret it. She's looking at me like I just kicked her sick mother. Eyes wide in shocked hurt, mouth hanging open, and a dark blush spreading across her face, she's simultaneously devastated and humiliated.

Finally, she lets out a forced, rather choked, laugh. "Well, I can honestly say _that's_ one I've never heard."

I raise my eyebrow, ignoring her pitiful attempt at bravado. "I'm not involved in this," I tell her bluntly. "He's the moron who can't accept that some girls can be stronger than guys."

From the floor of the bathroom, his voice echoing off the tiled walls, Emmett snorts and calls, "Don't act like you didn't want to know, too!"

"I already knew, dipshit!" I snap back. "She's clearly a woman!"

Tanya looks down the hall to where Emmett lies unseen. "You doubt that?" she calls to him. Then she looks down, pondering, before meeting my eyes with steely determination. "Then checking will do, right?"

I blink. "Excuse me?"

She grabs my hand and starts to tug. "Come on. I'd rather die if it was him, but if it's you, I can endure."

Angrily, she pulls me after her. We walk down endless empty halls and don't stop until she's reached some empty classroom and seems satisfied that no one will be around. Only then does she release my bruised arm.

"That was really unnecessary," I growl, massaging the sore place on my forearm from where her hand had wrapped around it like a vice.

"Nothing is 'unnecessary' when I'm being accused of being a man," she snaps back. "And I really thought I was acting like a normal girl at this school..."

I sigh. "Look, you're way overthinking this. You were legendary in the past. Compared to then, you're a damn lamb now. Besides, who's to say what's 'normal' or not? Just do what you want."

She gasps, horrified, and cries, "You knew about me?!"

I stare, confused. "From gossip. Was it true?"

Her head drops as she lets out a completely dejected sigh. It seems her last hope has fled her. "I can't say how much of what you heard was true," she allows, "but it was probably mostly true. I've always been a little... rambunctious."

I laugh. "That's putting it mildly, wouldn't ya say?"

She glares at me, imploring, "But I'm not the same anymore! I decided to change!"

"Then that wasn't you beating up two wanna-be thugs on campus yesterday?" I prompt.

"They came looking for me," she defends herself, looking away out the windows. "I'm really trying hard."

I take a step closer to her and ask seriously, "Why? Why do you want to change yourself so badly?"

Immediately, her entire demeanor changes. Gone is the dejected, humiliated girl from before. In her place stands a beaming, hopeful girl. "Good question!" she praises. "I want to be on the student council. I want to rally people."

I stare. "...Seriously?"

Her eyes narrow as she watches me. "What's with that face?"

"What face am I making?"

"An 'I suddenly want nothing more to do with this person' face."

I let out another genuine laugh. "Pretty sharp, aren't ya?"

But my answer displeases her.

"Oh." Her face and shoulders fall again, and back is the depressed one. I don't know why my not wanting to be around her would disappoint her so.

"What's wrong with you?" I demand, thrown off.

She looks out the windows again, a light dusting of pink spreading over her cheeks. "I was just wondering why it's so easy to talk to you."

I don't know why, but something inside me cringes. I have to nip this romantic shit in the bud.

"We don't talk," I point out, unintentionally more cold than I'd intended. "You mostly just beat up Emmett."

"I guess," she mutters, embarrassed again. "Then I think it's your... aura, your attitude. You're unlike anyone else I've ever met. You're just so relaxed and carefree."

I snort at this assessment and agree sarcastically, "Sure. Carefree."

"Normally, I'd want nothing to do with a guy like you, but now..." she sighs in resignation, "I just don't have the will..."

Fuck. Why is she trying to pull this shit now?

Once more trying to steer clear, I tease, "Gee, thanks. By 'guy like you,' I guess you mean the fact that I'm a 'delinquent'?"

"Yeah," she agrees, but her tone is surprised, like I've just reminded her of that fact. "You're a bad student."

I decide to press my advantage here. "Yep. I ditch and come late all the time. Stay out real late, too. Not super appropriate behavior, huh?"

She nods. "But that's what drew me to you. I did wonder... I really didn't think I'd meet someone like me at this school."

I widen my eyes dramatically, laughing once. "I don't think I'm anything compared to your former self, but yeah, I guess I can see some similarities. But seriously, if you want to be on the student council, you'd best stay clear of me. It'll be trouble for you if you get the teachers thinking you're a friend of mine."

She shakes her head, not meeting my eyes. "The student council is more or less independent of the teachers."

"Still. 'Guilt by association' and all that. The students won't like you."

"I doubt that."

Finally, I lose my cool a little. "Why do you care so much?" I snap. "It's not like we hang out now. We've got nothing to talk about, nothing in common."

I turn on my heel and start walking away from her before I really lose it.

"Where are you going?" her voice stops me before I get to the door.

"Where else?" I return. "I'm going back to my boring-ass class."

"But... But you haven't checked yet."

"Checked what?" I ask irritatedly, not really caring, hand on the door handle. Then I freeze. "Oh... You can't be serious."

"But I am! I'll let you touch me to confirm it."

"Tanya, seriously, it's not worth this," I say. "Emmett's the worst kind of moron. You and I both know it."

"I can't live knowing that he thinks I'm a man," she persists.

"His opinion doesn't matter! You're a girl no ifs, ands, or buts."

She takes a step towards me, cocking her head to the side. "But you could be wrong, couldn't you?"

I blink, stunned. "...Am I?"

"Of course not. But I'll feel uneasy if you just give in without checking. There must be no doubt."

I shrug. "So I'll tell him I touched you."

"Then you'll be lying and you still won't know for certain," she retorts stubbornly.

"Look, do you _want_ me to touch you or something?"

"AS IF!"

I shake my head. "I hate this complicated bullshit."

She picks up on the key word. "Complicated... Yes, a woman's heart is always complicated. Doesn't that make me feminine?"

"No, it makes you annoying."

I smirk to let her know I'm kidding—partially—and reach out to her. I gently stroke her cheek with my two forefingers, barely grazing the skin.

Her face flushes instantly and darkly, and she stutters, "W-What are you doing?"

I step back, shoving my hands in my pockets again. "Soft and warm," I announce. "Definitely the real thing."

It takes her a second to catch my meaning, but when she does, a shy smile lights her face. Despite her embarrassed, rather shaky appearance, she retorts with her usual spunk, "Did you expect anything less?"

We walk slowly together back down the halls until we reach Emmett, who is standing with an awed, very envious expression on his anxious face.

"Well?" he demands. "How was it, Cullen?"

"Soft and warm," I repeat with a wink to Tanya, who lets out a very un-Tanya-like giggle. "Definitely the real thing."

"Are you serious?!" Emmett shrieks. "Damn it! I don't know whether to regret the fact that she's a girl or that I'm a man!"

* * *

Fourth period ends to the annoying squeal of the bell recording blaring overhead. Emmett lies flopped over his desk, unmoving.

Is he even still alive? I pull at his hair to see. He resists the tugs, but doesn't wake. I decide to let him sleep and leave the classroom for lunch by myself. He'd only get in my way anyway, seeing as I have someone to meet there.

As I enter the hall, I try to remember what class Bella has now. She'd mentioned before what class she had before lunch, but I couldn't remember clearly... Art? No, some language. Spanish? No... French! Definitely French. And French was in room 132.

I rush down the stairs to her class, which is just starting to leave as I reach the door. True to character, Bella stands safely back against the far wall, waiting for the stampede to die down and trying not to block anyone's path.

She happens to look up and meet my eyes. She smiles eagerly and waves, then trots out the door to me.

"Hi, Edward!" she chirps—then abruptly frowns. "Are you sure you're ok with this?"

"With what?" I ask, confused.

"With spending time with me," she clarifies. "I'm sure you have other friends whose company you enjoy more..."

Laughing, I roll my eyes and answer, "I'm sure."

She beams. "I'm glad. Let's go, then."

We start off, walking side-by-side. It's a little awkward, because what with the packed hallways we keep brushing against each other, but we definitely will not hold hands or anything like that. So we just present this weirdly close but awkward image.

Besides, all the looks we're getting are bad enough. How does any guy manage to walk around a high school with his girlfriend? I can't even imagine it, and I'm only with Bella.

I glance at her as we walk. Her pale, heart-shaped face is turned down, her large brown eyes watching her step carefully. A faint blush still lingers on her cheeks from her excitement at seeing me. A strange thought passes through my mind: that all guys watching should be jealous, because she's walking with me.

"Something wrong?" Bella asks, jerking me out of my own head.

"No," I promise, awkwardly pushing aside those unsettling thoughts.

The crowd in front of the food counter seems so large that even getting close would be difficult. Larger and more riotous than I've ever seen it.

"It looks even more crowded than usual!" Bella echoes my thoughts, groaning exasperatedly.

"Yep," I sigh in agreement.

Suddenly, Bella lets out a loud cry of alarm, and I jump, startled. A guy had brushed past her, pushing her forward, and dove into the crowd. He disappears, forced along like driftwood in a current.

"Are you ok?" I ask her, touching her arm to get her attention.

She ignores me, her mouth open in horror at her fellow students' violence.

"L-Let's just go outside," she suggests, starting for the door. "I'm not that hungry."

I grab her arm and turn her back. "Chicken," I tease. "I'm the one who's buying, and I say it's fine, ok? Besides, your little cafe friends will help me. So just tell me what you want."

"A cheeseburger will be fine..."

So we're back to polite and shy, huh? Not for me.

"Didn't we come here early to get something special?" I counter. "Pick something you've never had before."

"But... it's kind of expensive..."

"Tell me anyway."

"Well, then... Could you please get me some spaghetti?"

I blink, surprised. "They have spaghetti here?"

"Mm-hmm. It's new."

"Huh," I say, mulling that over. Maybe I'll get some of that myself. "Well, I'm goin' in. Pray for my life."

I grin and dive into the crowd through a tiny gap. I push students aside, catching sight as I do of the back of a familiar head. When did he...?

I grab his shoulder and call over the din, "Hey!"

"Edward!" He turns.

"Weren't you sleeping just a second ago?" I ask.

"Yeah, but I had to wake up for that," he answers, pointing to a sign hanging from the ceiling that reads _New Lunch Item: Spaghetti and Garlic Bread - $5_.

"Oh." So that's why it's more crowded in here than usual.

"Ok, if we work together, we're sure to get some before it all runs out," Emmett plans.

Ah, yes, well, I'd love to, but he's just going to get in my way later. Because I have a girl waiting for me, and he's the last person I want finding out about her.

So I trip him.

He quickly gets knocked and swept away by the tide of students. Target eliminated. But now the crowd is even bigger and more riotous as all classes have probably finished by now. I charge ahead blindly, and reach the counter.

"You've got food set aside for Bella Swan, right?" I ask the guy at the register.

"Yeah," he responds harshly, probably used to dealing with bratty students also expecting favors, "and unless you suddenly grow tits and a conscious, you won't be touching it."

Um. Ok. Totally uncalled for.

"I'm a friend of hers," I inform him, trying to keep my tone polite. "I didn't want her in this crowd. Can I get some spaghetti for her with the garlic bread and whatever you have left for me?"

He stares at me for a minute before saying, "I never would've pegged you for a nice guy, but I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt. Bella's a pretty good judge of character. I'll get you both some spaghetti and garlic bread."

"Got it!" I declare triumphantly to Bella when I reach her again minutes later, this time bearing two large plates of steaming, fucking delicious looking spaghetti and bread sticks. "Sorry about the wait."

"Are you kidding me?" she exclaims. "Are you _ok_?"

"More or less," I laugh. "Come on."

We take our lunches to the courtyard after grabbing some sodas from the vending machines in the hall. It's peaceful out in what I now involuntarily consider "our spot," and it's probably my favorite time of the day. It calms me as nothing else does.

I find myself pleased to bear the bruises and sore spots from my lunch-line leap. It's a hell of a lot better for me to deal with them than her.

I glance at her as I think this. She's happily munching away at her meal, oblivious. It's quite amusing to watch her eat so eagerly. She does everything that way, though, I realize. Even the most mundane things are exciting new adventures to her, everything has something enjoyable to it. Almost like a kid.

Maybe that's why no one wants to be with her. It's hard to be around someone so determined to see the good in everything. Totally opposite, of course, from why nobody wants to be around me.

And all through this revelation and my continued staring, she remains oblivious. I can't help laughing to myself.

That she does notice. She smiles at me and offers, "Thanks for the spaghetti. It's really good."

I nod and just continue watching her, making her noticeably uncomfortable. But I can't seem to stop. I really enjoy watching her facial expressions, those eyes especially.

"Umm... Did I get some on my mouth?" she asks tremulously.

"No, there's nothing on your mouth."

"Then what are you staring at?" She's blushing fiercely as she asks, but she meets my gaze levelly, determined to get an answer.

Prompted by some unknown feeling, I ignore her question and say, "Hey, Bella?"

"Y-Yes?"

"You're kind of adorable, you know that?"

"What?!"

I nod and explain, "It's like this talent you have or something. You're the truest definition of sweet. And if other people noticed, they'd love you. So I'm sure you'll make lots of friends."

She looks at the ground and grumbles, "I wasn't feeling down, you know, you didn't have to try to cheer me up."

"I wasn't trying to. That's just what I was thinking. My impression of you."

She looks back to me and smiles. "You're weird," she declares.

I suddenly realize how out of character this whole conversation is for me and sit up straighter, clearing my throat. I notice a girl standing in front of the window of the third floor, watching us.

"Try waving to her and smiling," I repeat my earlier command to her.

"No, do it yourself," she snickers, taking a bit out of her bread stick.

"I'm not the one who needs members to join my club," I remind her. "Besides, you'd like some new friends, wouldn't you? It'd be weird if I did it for you."

"I don't think so," she retorts, smirking privately to herself. "I've been hearing lots of things about you, you know. Tons of girls like you because you're tall and cool. I'm sure that one would welcome any attention from you." She suddenly frowns. "And that makes me feel weirdly jealous."

I watch her stare at the ground, face red, and finish, "Because then we wouldn't hang out as much?" Then I laugh. "That's it. I give up with you. You take shit way too seriously around here."

I poke her forehead playfully and she beams at me. Her smile fades as she glances to the window and sees the girl has gone.

Wanting to take that troubled look off her face, I suggest, "Let's go to the club room."

"Ok!" She stands and brushes herself off excitedly.

* * *

Opening the door to the club room, I ask, "How much time do we have?"

"About twenty minutes."

"Good. Let's use that time to make a sign that the drama club is looking for new members."

"Ok!"

We pull two old desks from another empty room down the hall into our room and push them together, facing each other. Then we start by drawing up a list of things we still have to do, writing on a sheet of plain printing paper with a sharpie.

"First, let's decide on a day to give some kind of presentation on what we want to do with the club," I suggest.

"We won't be able to get many members if the date's too soon," Bella hedges. "How about two weeks from now?"

"All right. May it is, then." I write our decision down.

_Scratch, scratch._

I hold up the finished product, but frown as I inspect it.

"It's missing something," I decide. "It needs a picture or something."

"You're right," she agrees.

I put the paper down in front of her. "Then you should get to drawin'."

"Me?" she asks blankly.

"Who else would?"

"You..." she tries, her smile slightly sly.

"I don't think so." I shut that thought down immediately. "I suck at art."

She sighs and commiserates, "Me, too. You know that self-portrait they made us all do in middle school?"

"Yeah."

"I poured my heart and soul into that thing," she informs me, smiling ironically, "but my teacher still told me it looked like a bowl of curry rice."

I laugh, but before can get offended I relate, "My teacher said mine looked like a catcher's mitt."

Bella smiles, then continues, "He also said that I should have added vegetables since I already went to all the trouble."

"Mm," I grunt sympathetically. "Nice guy. So should we ask someone who's good at drawing, then?" I stand.

Still seated, Bella sighs resignedly. "No, I'll draw it. I'm supposed to be the club president, after all."

"Good," I praise, sitting back down. "And don't use used paper, ok?"

Giving me a sarcastic _no really?_ look, she uncaps her colored pen and asks, "What should I draw?"

"I think you should come up with that yourself," I encourage. "Draw something you're good at."

Her brow furros as she stares down at the paper, chewing her bottom lip pensively.

I can't resist adding, "Like curry rice."

"Shut up!" she snaps, but when she meets my eyes, she's laughing, so I know I didn't really offend her. "Would it be ok if I drew something I think is cute?"

"Sure."

Happily, she bends over to begin her word. As she steadily draws, she starts to hum a song. I've heard the melody before, but I can't think where. After a few minutes, I start to get worried. What on earth could she be drawing?

I sneak a peek through her hair and catch a glimpse of many weird face-like things: two long lines for eyes inside circles. There's several linked together in a chain.

"Done!" She lifts the poster to show me.

"Um, wow..."

There are no blank spots left on the paper; the entire poster is covered in the mysterious long-eyed creatures.

"No one can read it now," I point out.

She glances to the poster in alarm, then agrees forlornly, "You're right..."

"Why'd you draw so many of these weird things anyway?"

She stares at me as if I've grown another head. "Don't you know who they are?"

"Um, no..."

She suddenly beams, informing me, "It's the Big Dango Family!"

I blink, repeating slowly, "The... The Big... _Dango_ Family?"

Then I remember. That was the name of a pretty popular cartoon from Japan that was on TV when I was a kid. I'd forgotten all about it. But that's definitely the melody she'd been humming before—the theme song. **  
**

"I gotta be honest, Bella," I state, shaking my head, "You have really bad taste. That show's been canceled for years."

Her face falls as she defends, "But being old doesn't matter to me. It's still cute..."

"Maybe so, but it's still really unpopular now. No one will remember them and wonder what these weird circle things are on your sign."

She blushes, but tries anyway, "The Big Dango Family are important to me... They have lots of family members. I'm an only child and so are both my parents. I used to imagine that I was a dango. I envied them. One day I want to have a family as big as the Big Dango Family's."

Well, now I really feel like a piece of shit. She looks close to tears as she admits this secret to me.

"N-No, this is fine," is my poor attempt to retract my earlier derision.

"But you said it was in bad taste."

"I... didn't mean it."

She glares at me through wet eyes. "You mean everything you say. But it's ok. We can just agree to disagree."

I assent, shifting guiltily in my chair. I stare at the poster so I don't have to meet her gaze, and I think to myself that this poster is an almost perfect representation of her mind, her soul. Imperfect, naive, but innocent and almost overbearingly sweet. So much so that you'd think she was faking, or acting a joke. But she's not.

"Well," I say, sitting up and clapping my hands together. "I guess this means our work here is done. Good job, team."

I grab the poster and rise to my feet again.

"Where are you going?" Bella asks, also rising.

"Library," I respond. "We need to make copies of this so we can put them up after school. Meet here?"

"Ok!" She smiles, thanks me heartily for my help, and heads off to class.

I go, as I'd said I would, to the library to make copies, then head to class myself. By some miracle, I'm still early.

Emmett strolls in a few minutes after me and drops dejectedly into his seat, flopping his head onto his outstretched arms.

"Hey, cheer up," I say to him.

"And who's fault is it that I even need cheering up?" he snaps back without lifting his head.

"...Yours?"

"It's yours! Yours, dammit! You!" I wanted to brag to everyone who hadn't gotten any that I'd eaten the new spaghetti on the first day!"

"Well," I try, "you can brag that your friend had it on the first day."

He finally lifts his head, flatly gazing at me, before declaring, "...I hate you," and flopping back down.

"Um... Edward?"

"Hmm?" I turn from snickering internally at Emmett's childish tantrum to see Vera Hale standing before me, eyeing me curiously.

"Um... Are you not gonna go somewhere again?" she asks, confused.

Totally unaware of what this could mean, I respond, "Noooo..."

"Really?" A light blush grazes her cheeks as her blue eyes light up in a mixture of hope and fear.

"I said I wasn't, didn't I?"

The hope dies completely, and the fear is replaced by sadness and disappointment. I'm totally lost, but I admit I feel a little guilty. I forget she's not used to rude people.

But she just stands there, staring at me. I wait, raising my eyes questioningly, but still she says nothing.

"Was there something you wanted?" I finally ask.

"Uh, well..." She hesitates, then deflates. "No. Nothing."

She walks forlornly back to her seat.

I sigh and rest my chin on my hand as I look out the window.

* * *

I leave the classroom and Emmett, who's in his own spaghetti-less world of lost dreams, even though class has ended.

I head to the drama club room. I didn't really mean to, but somehow I find myself out of breath when I reach my destination, and I realize I'd been almost running here.

But Bella isn't here.

I sit down to wait, knowing she's weak and probably pacing herself, but she still doesn't come. I get up and head to the chalkboard and scribble something pointless with the bits of leftover chalk to pass the time.

_Club President: Isabella Swan_.

I set the chalk down again and pace the room, impatient. Where could she be? I'm honestly starting to get a little worried. What is something happened? She's so frail...

Before I know it, I'm on my feet and out the door. I try to reassure myself by hoping she mistakenly went into the next door classroom and is waiting for me there.

I peek in through the window in the door of the abandoned class, but it doesn't seem anyone's in there. Prompted by some unknown force, I open the door and go in anyway.

I'd thought there was no one in here, but apparently I was wrong for at the window sits another student. I guess I couldn't see her from the doorway. She's a small girl—extremely small, actually, smaller than Bella though not as frail looking—far too small to be a high school student. She's practically swimming in her uniform. Her waist-length raven-black hair is tied at the nape of her neck. She holds a block of wood in her left hand and a knife in her right, steadily carving away. She hasn't even noticed me.

Then her hands suddenly freeze as she looks up at me, and she just stares.

"...You ok?" I feel compelled to ask, thrown off by the intensity of her gaze.

"Wah!" She lets out a startled cry at the sound of my voice and suddenly flees to the far corner of the room. But the knife is still in her hand. In her childish fear or whatever else she might think, she could hurt herself.

From her dark corner as far from me as she can possibly get, her dark eyes watch my every move intently.

"Is this the fine arts club room?" I ask, trying to comfort her with small talk. She stares silently. "I'm talking to you." Startled, she points to herself questioningly. I sigh, frustrated. "Do you see anyone else in this room? Is this the fine arts club room?"

She finally answers by shaking her head, shrinking further back into her corner.

"So you're skipping your club activities because you're late on a project?" I try.

She shakes her head again.

"Then... this is a hobby?"

Again, shake shake.

"Then what are you doing?"

She lifts the wooden carving in front of her chest, but holds it tightly, as if she fears I'll try to take it. "You mean this?" she asks in a high-pitched, childlike voice.

"Yeah."

"This is... my favorite..."

She suddenly squeals with happiness and seems to entirely forget that I'm there as she hugs her hunk of half-carved wood to her chest and seems to daydream.

This could be my chance.

While she's preoccupied in whatever lala land she's in, I walk briskly over to her corner and pluck the knife out of her hand. "Look that this thing..." I sigh to myself, examining the blade.

She snaps back to reality with a jolt, then her face falls as she sees her knife in my hand.

I glance to her own hands, wrapped tightly in white gauze, through which spots of red can be seen. So she's already hurt herself with the stupid thing. No wonder.

"The blade is chipped," I inform her. "You really shouldn't be using a dull blade like this. Look at your hands already. Give 'em a break."

"But... I _want_ to do this," she retorts petulantly. "You leave me alone! And give that back!"

I sigh. "Your hands hurt, don't they?"

"No, they don't!"

"Liar."

"I am not!" she responds indignantly, a child's attitude through and through. "My hands are wrapped... to be safe."

"Shake on it?" I offer, extending my hand.

"Ok."

I grasp her hand tightly, but not any tighter than necessary, as we shake.

"Ahh!" she gasps in pain, yanking her hand out of mine and darting once more to the farthest corner from me.

I sit down at a nearby desk and wait.

Slowly, carefully, she starts inching back to me, declaring, "That didn't hurt."

Why is she doing this to herself? Even I can see she's close to tears with the pain of her hands.

"Will you shake hands with me again?" I ask pointedly.

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because... Because I already shook hands with you, and shaking hands is not something you do every five seconds!"

I nod, allowing that. "True," I say. "Let's high-five, then."

"High-five?"

Didn't this girl have a childhood? Or any contact with the outside world? Who didn't know what a high-five was?

"You know, when you shoot a ball in a ball game, your teammates high-five you."

"But I haven't made a ball," she points out.

"Let's just imagine it."

I make a half-assed basketball freethrow pose and she pretends to intercept, running around until she clumsily pretends to throw it into a basket.

"Goal!" she cheers.

"Good job!" I cheer along with her. "Now, raise that hand of yours."

"Ok!"

_Clap!_ I slap palms with her.

She chokes back a cry, running back to her corner to collect herself. I wait a few seconds.

"That didn't hurt," she protests, back before me not minutes later. The traces of tears on her face suggest otherwise. "Please give it back."

"No," I answer flatly. "It hurts you. Just take a short break until you've healed."

I put the knife in my pocket, and her face pales, eyes becoming wildly distraught at seeing this.

"_Please_ give it back!"

"No! Besides, how can you make something pretty with hurt hands? I don't know what you want to work so hard on, but don't you want it to be pretty?"

She looks close to tears again. "But... there's no time to waste on healing!"

I lean forward, slightly concerned. "Is a teacher making you do this?"

"No, I want to do this."

"Then it's ok to take a short break and rest."

I get up and leave the room and her, behind. At the door, I turn back for a quick glance to see her looking mournfully at her wooden carving. She's crying.

Guilt creeps over me. Was I too harsh? But wasn't it stupid of her to be working so hard when she's injured? She should worry about herself more.

I turn and look out the wall of windows behind me... and there she is. What could she be doing down there? She's just sitting in our spot looking lonelier than ever.

I rush down.

"Hey," I greet somewhat breathlessly once I get to her, "what are you doing here?"

Bella glances up, surprised, and I finally notice the broom between her legs. She spins it silently.

"What's wrong?" I demand, irrationally concerned. "Did something happen?"

I sit down beside her. She just goes on spinning the broom.

Purposefully gentling my tone, I ask, "Did you have cleaning duty?"

Finally, she gives one nod in answer.

"What's wrong, then? Why aren't you working? And where's everyone else?"

Every day after school, a different group of students was assigned "cleaning duty." All they had to do was sweep out the courtyard. It was supposed to build character or some shit.

"I was..." she murmurs.

"So why did you stop?"

"Well..." She suddenly leaps to her feet. "I don't want to talk about it, Edward."

She starts walking away.

"Hey, wait!" I chase after her. "What, you don't like me anymore?"

She stares at me, wide-eyed that I drew this conclusion. "Of course not. You're the type of guy who's tough on the outside but really sweet and caring on the inside. How could I dislike you, knowing that?"

I brush aside her compliment for another day. "Well, _you're_ the type of girl who shouldn't be hurt," I reply. "So tell me what happened. Like you always do."

She looks away, blushing. "I think you're getting bored with me. All I do is waste your time."

"That's not true at all. I like spending time with you."

She says nothing. Doesn't even meet my eyes. She just goes on twirling her broom. What the hell was I thinking, saying that so bluntly? But she just stays quiet, and we stand there for so long that I lose track of the time.

She's definitely upset, that much is clear. I don't know why, but that fact is undeniable. Food, food... I try to think of something suitable. It suddenly strikes me that I don't know her favorite food, or even the types of food she usually likes. Maybe dango, for her Big Dango Family? There was a little grocery store in Seattle that used to sell imitations of the characters from that show, if I remembered correctly.

"You like the Big Dango Family, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then say it," I command. "And try your best."

"Do you even think they make the Big Dango Family anywhere?" she frets.

"You let me worry about that. Say it."

For a long moment, it seems she's too upset to even bribe herself with that most beloved food, that she'll just ignore me. Then she closes her eyes and murmurs, "Big Dango Family!"

"Feel better?"

Her eyes open and she smiles at me wondrously. "Yes."

"I want you to tell me when you're troubled, Bella," I request. "However stupid it might seem to you. But for now, I think you should finish up here so we can post the sign."

Her smiles becomes incandescent with joy and she cheerfully agrees before running off with her broom in hand to finish clean-up duty... by herself, a fact which has not escaped my notice. But I want to hear her story before jumping to any conclusions.

As I watch her scamper off, I smile to myself. I suppose the Big Dango Family really means something to her.

While she sweeps, I go to the school's only true bulletin board and pin up our last poster. We're a month late for recruitment, so declares a large red sign on already there, but there are other leftover signs so ours didn't stick out so much.

"Drama club?" Emmett asks skeptically, coming to a stop next to me. What is he even still doing here? The sun is setting. "Are you serious? I thought you hated club activities! You said it made you sick to see guys get so into them."

I don't know why, but his bringing up my past and past statements makes me angrier than ever. I have to physically restrain myself from punching him with the desire to get him to shut up.

"Well, whatever," he finally scoffs. "Maybe one day I'll let you explain it to me. See ya later."

Idiot.

"Edward?"

Oh no.

I turn to see the last person I'd ever want overhearing that statement standing next to me. Bella looks hurt and confused, as I'd expect.

"Is that true?" she asks tremulously. "Do you hate club activities that much?"

"N-No," I stammer hastily, "he was just being an idiot. I told you I want to help you."

Bella stays quiet and somewhat sad. It doesn't fit for the Bella I now know. I don't like it.

"Well," I announce as cheerfully as I can, "let's go get some Big Dango Family!"

* * *

Walking down the school hill side-by-side, I can't help but voice my fears. I break the silence hesitantly.

"I have one question."

"Yes?" Bella returns curiously.

"Well, what if... How bad would you feel if we can't find any Big Dango Family?" I ask, cringing at her expected response.

"I think I'd live," she tries to joke, but I can see the light fade from her eyes from the corner of my eye.

We visit several supermarkets in town, but can't find any that sell the Big Dango Family, or even plain dango. At the end of our fruitless excursion, Bella looks extremely tired and unhappy, and I feel all the more guilty because I never truly helped her with what happened during clean-up duty on _top_ of promising and not delivering her precious Dango Family.

I can't stand the thought. I have to get some of those fucking dango, no matter what.

"Well, they're old, like you said," Bella declares as we walk slowly, dejectedly from the last store in Forks. "And this is a small town. We should have expected that we wouldn't find any."

"Wait." I stop, take out my wallet, inspect the contents, and look back to her. "I want you to go home, ok? I'll come over later, and I promise I'll make up for being a jerk today."

She rolls her eyes. "And when were you a jerk, exactly?" she asks rhetorically. "When you spent an hour and a half waiting to put up _one_ sign with me? Or when you spent two hours searching every store in Forks for a stupid food you didn't even plan to eat?"

"Still," I persist. "Can I come over later? Will you be there?"

After a moment's hesitation, a beam of sunlight lights her face in the form of her happiest smile. "Yeah, I'll be there." All too soon, the smile vanishes, to be replaced by a concerned frown. "But—"

"Ah!" I cut her off. "No questions. Off you go. I'll see you later."

She looks a little worried as she hesitantly nods. I stand and watch her as she starts to walk away. I don't know what prompts me to, but I say to myself as I stare after her, "Please don't cry on your way home."

Then I turn and go off to carry out my own business. There's a Japanese restaurant a few miles outside Forks. It takes a while, but I get there and buy a bunch of plain dango, then head to a nearby grocery store for food dye and chopsticks. Only then do I return home.

"Fuck!" I gasp, heaving the heavy bag of dango onto the floor of my bedroom and rotating my sore shoulder.

I bend down and take out a package of dango, breaking the seal. I struggled to remember what kind of face they had. Holding one in my hand, I experiment by digging two long lines into the surface with the chopsticks. It looks passage, I decide. Amateur, definitely, but passable.

I open and pour all the different food dyes in separate dishes and then dunk my shitty dango in one of the red ones. It soaks quickly, and I take it out and set it down on a paper towel to dry.

Well, that wasn't so bad... then I remember there are a hundred of them. What has my life become, making some fucking Big Dango Family? But I don't have a choice. She'll be sad again if I don't do this. So I get down to work.

Poke, poke. Poke, poke. Dip in green. Dip in yellow.

An hour passes without my even realizing it. All I know is the light in my room is suddenly orange with the setting sun.

"Shit!" I curse, starting to double-time it. I'm almost done. Only one left. But I'm so damn thirsty. I rush out of the room to get some water and when I come back... my father is there. Standing at my desk, back to me, inspecting my work.

Seeing him automatically ignites something in me. I immediately feel angry.

"What are you doing in here?" I demand.

Ignoring my tone, he holds up one of the finished dango. "Did you do this?" he asks, smiling. "It's the Big Dango Family, right? You loved that show when you were a boy." I say nothing. "What are you planning to do with them?"

"They're for someone."

"A friend?" he presses.

"Yeah."

"Well, will you let me help?"

"Why?" I ask suspiciously.

"I want to help, for your friend. It might give _them_ the courage to talk about their problems."

I glare, infuriated. That was definitely a dig at my avoidance of him. Why couldn't he just leave me alone like I do him? Did he _like_ subjecting me to the torture of his indifference? And why are my friends more important to him than me, that he'd be willing to help out for _their_ sake but not mine? Isn't he my father? Why is he talking to me like a distant acquaintance?

He either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore my scathing look.

"I'm good at this," he offers. He goes as if to press the chopstick into my last plain dango to dig in the eyes.

"No!" I suddenly bark, surprising even myself with the volume. I can't bear to have him, so dirty and tainted, touch anything meant for Bella, so pure and sweet. He jumps, surprised, as I continue, "Why do you do this to me? It's totally obvious this means nothing to you—that _I_ mean nothing to you. So why do you keep forcing yourself to be around me? Why do you keep forcing your company on _me_?"

I look away, fighting angry, irrational tears, but I can feel his eyes still on me. I can't help but glance to his face—then look away, disappointed. He isn't looking at me like a father fighting with his son might look. He watches me with this sympathetic, surprised, guilty look, like I'm a friend he's unintentionally hurt.

I quickly gather all the dango lying on the desk and stuff them in the bag before leaving without another glance to him.

I hate this, I want to scream as I run. Where I run, I don't know, nor do I care. I don't belong here. I feel at home nowhere. Why do I keep lying to myself? I won't ever mean anything to anyone. I don't need to keep doing this. I don't _want_ to keep doing this. Everyone has their limits, right? Well, I've had enough!

My lungs burn as I finally stop running, bent double and leaning on my knees as I pant heavily. My entire body burns. I have no idea how far I've run. I look up and take in my surroundings.

Of course I've come here, even though I hadn't meant to. The Swan residence and bakery loom before me, and there's Bella standing at the entrance.

I approach her on legs still shaky from my run. She stares at me, but I can't say anything. I don't know if that's because my lungs feel like they're about to shrivel up or if it's something else. I don't know what's wrong with me, to be honest. So I just stand there, panting.

"Are you all right?" she finally asks.

"Fine." I suddenly remember the bag in my hand and thrust it at her with a simple, "It's for you."

She accepts it silently, opening it to take a curious peek inside. She then lets out a delighted squeal of, "The Big Dango Family!" She beams at me, her eyes looking suspiciously damp, and then gazes back into the bag.

I just watch her, aware with a sudden jolt that I'm completely calm once more.

After a while, we head to the park across the street. I sit down on the bench and stare in the direction of the swings. Bella sits next to me.

"Before I realized it," Bella suddenly says, breaking the peaceful silence, "I was alone."

"What?"

Her hands are clasped to her chest, as though talking about this brings her physical pain, and she refuses to meet my eyes. Then it hits me: she's finally telling me what happened after school.

"Even though cleaning duty wasn't over," she goes on naively, "everyone left, and I was suddenly alone."

"I see."

Watching her pained expression, I try to come up with a way to help her, even though I know I'm pretty fucking useless too. I decide to tell a story for a story.

"You know what Emmett was talking about earlier?" She nods. "Well, I was telling the truth when I said he was being an idiot, but... we had reason to feel that way. He and I were drafted out of middle school to play sports. You know what that means, right?"

She rolls her eyes at me.

"Sorry," I laugh. "Just makin' sure. Well, Emmett was signed for the football team, and I was put on the basketball team. But I had to quit before even starting, during the beginning of school freshman year."

"So you came to hate playing basketball? And all the other clubs?"

"Not at all!" I smile, then sigh a little nostalgically. "But I can't remember the last time I touched a basketball..."

"Edward," Bella offers slowly, "how about playing with me, then?" She grins and jokes, "I may not look it, but I've got good reflexes. Would you meet me at the courts tomorrow after school?"

I don't answer. I don't even want to think of playing that game. It's literally impossible for me.

But I know what would happen if I flatly turn her down, so I try to come up with some way to cheer her up and change the subject simultaneously. I can't help thinking that if she were to ever find herself alone again, it would be... nice... if we could be together. So I say slowly, "You know...when you feel like crying because you're lonely... just call me. That would make you feel better, wouldn't it?"

Her wide seem to reach right down to my stupidly fast-beating heart. I don't know what I'm so worked-up about. All I did was offer her some help in the only form I could. If she refused, her loneliness was on her.

"I don't want to bother you..." she protests weakly.

No, I want to say, you won't. Because I want you to.

"It won't bother me," I offer instead. "It's not like I have anything else to do. I'm always bored anyway. Bother me as much as you like."

She gives me a small smile. "Ok. If I ever get to the point where I'm about to start crying, I'll call you."

"Good."

"But," she continues to my surprise, "I'll try my best to not _be_ lonely, so I won't have to call you."

Ignoring the bizarre twinge of disappointment I feel, I encourage, "You should do that, too... But if you don't call me—"

I cut myself off before I admit too much. Before I'm forced to say things _I'm_ not even ready to hear yet. But the thought still finishes itself in my mind.

_..._I'd_ feel lonely._

But it would be good, wouldn't it? It would mean she's learning to make new friends, trying her best to be healthy socially again. For some reason, I just don't know anymore.

"If I don't call you...?" she prompts, and I realize she'd been waiting, watching me through that entire uncomfortable thought process.

"Nothing."

A small smile touches her lips, and it's clear that she's seen right through me. "How about I call you even while trying my hardest to make new friends? Would that be all right with you?"

Clever girl. Phrasing it in such a way as to make it seem like her idea hinges on my approval, instead of the other way around, and thus preserving what dignity I have left.

"That'd be fine. But only because I'm so bored all the time."

"Right."

* * *

Only my stomach grumbling alerts us to how much time has passed. It's very dark when my attention returns to the outside world.

"Holy shit," I say in surprise before I can stop myself. Bella shoots me a reproving glance. She hates my cursing. "Um, we should head back."

She agrees and we walk together back toward her house. Two figures approach us from that very direction, and that's all I need to know to peg them as her parents.

"Time to come in, Bella," her father orders, but his tone is unconcerned so the command doesn't sound so absolute.

"Hello," I greet.

Charlie suddenly grins rather maliciously. "Weeeeeell, if it ain't Cosmo!"

Aaaaand we're back that.

"It's Edward, Dad, and you know it," Bella laughs.

He dramatically cringes and mutters, "Like _that's_ any better a name."

"Did you come to see Bella again?" Renee asks me happily.

"Um, well..." How to explain that I've actually monopolized her attention for most of the day? I wasn't sure how well that would go over with Charlie, who, though relatable, I still couldn't peg.

"Won't you come in, too?" she presses.

"Yeah," Charlie agrees to my surprise, which immediately clears as he adds, "I wanna keep my eye on this would-be Romeo. 'Sides, door's a lot more comfortable than climbing in through a window."

"Oh," Renee attempts to guess the reason behind my reluctance. "Will your parents worry?"

I can't help but snort. "Uh, no. But I should still go home now."

"That's too bad," Renee pouts, then offers, "Come back tomorrow, then, ok?"

"Sure thing. See you later, Bella."

She smiles at me, pure happiness in her eyes. "Goodnight, Edward."

I burn that smile into my memory and finally take my leave.

* * *

Friday, March 5, 2010

I ended up spending the night at Emmett's place. Friday dawns gray and overcast with big, heavy clouds that threaten to pop any minute. It looks like it might actually be storm.

_"Would you meet me at the courts tomorrow after school?"_

"Hey, Edward," Emmett suggests from his bed. "Let's cut school today. It's not like we learn anything anyway. We can check out that arcade while all the other guys are in class."

"Yeah."

So we dick around all day, but we don't end up leaving the house. The day outside can hardly be called a "day," it's so dark and roiling, and it even intimidates us from heading out into it.

I glance at my watch and see that school ended twenty minutes ago. A loud crack of thunder explodes outside and the rain immediately starts pounding down as if a door opened.

"Why do you keep looking out the window?" Emmett demands.

I bite my lip, unable to keep from worrying. It'd be so _her_...

"Mind if I borrow your umbrella?" I ask, getting to my feet.

I take it and leave, walking slowly but with ever-increasing concern to the school campus. She wouldn't have waited for me in this, would she? Especially after not seeing me at lunch?

My pace quickens involuntarily until I'm running up the hill to the basketball courts. Of course she's there, standing in full blast of the rain with no protection whatsoever, holding a basketball as she waits for me.

"Are you crazy?!" I shout from across the court, running to her. I thrust my umbrella into her hands and take off my school jacket, draping it over her soaked shoulders.

She blinks as though coming out of a daze, and starts at the sight of me. Her face is flushed in a way that worries me, her eyes overbright.

"Oh, hi, Edward," she greets vaguely.

"Are you insane?" I repeat, my worry making me furious. "Do you see this weather? You should've gone home!"

"But... if you'd come after I left, I'd have felt bad..."

"There was no guarantee that I'd come!" I remind her. "I never said I would!"

"But you _did_ come, didn't you?"

And just like that, all the anger evaporates. How could you be mad at the only person left on this planet who still believes in you?

"You've done so much to help me," she explains. "So I thought I could at _least_ play basketball with you."

"In this storm?"

"Then... just show me how to shoot a basket," she relents. At least she sees the sense in getting out of this weather quickly. "I've never actually seen it done, and I've never been allowed to play sports, myself," she continues.

I can't resist a plea like that, even though I know what this will cost me. Physically and emotionally.

I wordlessly hold up my hands, the international signal to pass the ball. She tosses it to me underhand. I stare at the ball, taking a deep breath. Maybe I can do this after all. If I do it for anyone, it'd be her.

Dribbling slowly, I walk to the front of the hoop and take the usual stance. But just as I go to lift my arms to take the shot...

...the ball drops to the ground, bouncing away, and I fall to my knees, clutching my right shoulder. All the pain comes flooding back as if the injury was brand new, instead of three years old.

"Edward!" Bella cries, confused and worried.

"I can't raise my right arm anymore," I inform her, my tone blank and uncaring.

"W-What...?"

"The summer before high school, my dad and I got in a bad fight. I injured my right shoulder pretty bad. My dad hired the best of his doctor friends, but... but I can't play basketball anymore."

Bella stares at me, horrified. "I-I'm so sorry," she whispers, and I can barely hear her over the din of the rainfall and thunder. "I didn't know! I never would've... All I do is cause people trouble..." She clutches her head as if she's suddenly struck with a horrible headache, and her feverish flush disappears with a swiftness that can only spell trouble. Her eyebrows come down in confusion and pain, and she murmurs nonsensically, "I have... to go..."

Of course, with TV and movies these days, I'd seen women faint. But I suppose it was different in real life. There is no graceful, slow falling over like a tree being cut down. Bella literally crumples, her every limb going limp at the same time. There's a sickening thud as her head hits the pavement of the court.

"Bella!" I rush to her side, lifting her. She doesn't move. "_Bella_!"


	7. Unknown 2

_Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer and Clannad belongs to Key_

**I've had a few questions regarding the "species" of some characters. While I can't say this story is AH, because there are some hints of afterlife later on, there are no vampires, werewolves, or magical people of any kind.**

**Bella doesn't have any special powers. Edward just feels calm in her presence, and even he's not sure why yet. You'll find out very shortly why Bella is always alone, and spends so much time away from school. Tanya is just a very strong girl who uses that strength as an outlet for her extremely short temper. You'll soon see Rosalie is also very strong, too, though her method of choice is to kick hard with high heels on. Ouch!**

**Thanks for the questions and feel free to drop a review! I'd really like to know what all of you think of this story, what I could be doing better, etc.**

* * *

_**ONE OTHER IMPORTANT** **NOTE**_:

I've gone back and updated the chapters already posted with a few little extra scenes that I love from the TV show, _Clannad. _Those of you who've already read them should go re-read, especially chapter 6, as they've changed quite a bit.

* * *

**Unknown POV**

Unknown Time

The next thing I see is the wooden floor. I watch it for an indeterminable amount of time, until I sense something coming towards me.

I lift my "head" and look around. I'm still in the little abandoned wood house, but now I have a different vantage point. I'm seated against a wall on the ground.

The girl is there. The girl who has always watched me. She reaches out her hand to me. On reflex, I put my own "hand" out to meet hers.

They connect.

I inspect my "hand," sitting cradled in hers. I can't feel anything. I have no physical senses whatsoever. Still, I can see my own metal "hand" resting in hers.

So I'd done it. Without meaning to, without ever consciously deciding to, I'd allowed myself to be reborn in this still world. I live here now. The girl can touch me. It's a sad world, but something inexplicable binds me to the girl. As I hold her hand tightly in return, my "heart" is filled with both unbearable joy... and sadness.

I was born here for her. I'd sacrificed everything being reborn in another world could have brought me to be here with her.

She tugs my hand, pulling me to my "feet," and let's go. Then she turns and walks several feet away, turns on her feel to face me once more, bends slightly at the waist and begins to clap.

I start walking in her direction, but promptly fall to the floor. Is she trying to teach me how to walk in this makeshift body? Shouldn't I already know how to walk...?

My memories are all so blurry. It takes a great deal of effort to remember anything besides vague feelings from my former life. So I don't try.

The girl claps her hands again as I get back up. I take another step, but my legs don't work the way I expect them to. I collapse again.

Doggedly, we repeat this process time after time, the girl always offering her hand to help me up.

How many times have I fallen?

Finally, I've crossed the floor and stand shakily in front of her. Even though I'm less than half her height, she bends down and embraces my metal body.

_Good job._

Her voice comes in a whisper, but the warmth of the tone is unmistakable.

Her warmth.

The only warmth in this frozen, dead world.

The warmth I'd given up everything for.

A warmth I cannot feel in my makeshift metal body.

The irony isn't lost on me. I look up into her face, a million questions buzzing around in my mind. But my metal body doesn't have a mouth, so I can't ask them.

I turn my "face" to look out of the window, the light through which always shines bright. I want to go outside. I want to see what else is in this apocalyptic world with my own "eyes."


End file.
